Mothers, Witches, and Bargains Made
by Kiristeen
Summary: 24 up Aug 16. HGSS It all starts with Snape's mother, determined to get him married. Add in Trelawney's predictions, Lord Voldemort, and Hermione Granger herself, and you end up with a mess looking to be sorted out.
1. Prologue

Title: Mothers, Witches, and Bargains Made  
Author: Kiristeen ke Alaya  
Series: most likely not  
Codes: het, graphic sex, first time, Challenge response  
Rating: PG-13  
Pairing: SS/HG  
Setting: Begins during the gang's 7th year.  
Feedback: Yes, Oh, yes! : )~ r/r or to Kiristeen@kiristeen.com  
  
A/N: Not fluff, but not violentl and dark either - somewhere in between. Intrigue and double crosses abound. Desperate people do desperate things, and sometimes that leads to destruction, sometimes to happiness. This time, it leads to both.  
  
Summary: Sybil Trelawney dreams a prophesy. A recurring dream speaks of her death and she will do *anything* to prevent it from happening, including going along with Mrs. Snape who feels it's high time her only son married. There's just one problem. Severus Snape disagrees. Resenting the intrusions into his private life, he balks, creating new and unexpected problems, and ultimately fulfilling the prophesy Sybil so dreaded.  
  
Disclaimer: Nothing you recognize belongs to me. It belongs to JK Rowling. I intend no disrespect nor copyright infringement with this story. It is for entertainment value alone, and I will make no money from it.  
  
  
  
  
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Prologue  
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Sybil Trelawney startled awake, shaking, sweat dripping down the sides of her face. Her hand fluttering to her chest, her heart pounding rapidly against her ribs, she panted, desperately trying to calm herself. **Damn!** she thought with growing fear, **Not again!** This was the seventh night in a row it had come. That the dream was back was bad enough. That it refused to go away, no matter what she did to change the path her life had taken was worse. That it now seemed to be becoming a nightly event was more than she could handle.  
  
Knowing full well she wasn't going to get anymore sleep tonight, past experience having taught her that, Sybil threw back the bed covers. Only one thing helped these days, and it was less and less effective the longer the dream came. Tea; she needed warming, soothing tea. Silently she padded across the room, not bothering to put on either robe or slippers, not caring about the cold of the stone beneath her feet, nor the chill in the pre-dawn air.  
  
There was ritual here; picking up the ancient ceramic tea pot, setting it and the tiny tea cup on the low standing table she kept beside the fireplace, filling the kettle slowly with water to just the right level, gliding back across the room to pick up her wand, turning to face the cold fireplace.  
  
"Incendio," she murmured quietly, crossing toward the low flames her spell had created and carefully hanging the kettle over the heat. Sinking to the floor, she stared into the fire. It had always entranced her, and tonight was no different, the hypnotic dance of the multi-colored flames held sway as she focused inward, her mind pushing aside extraneous sensations.  
  
The night before she had graduated had been the last time she'd had the dream -- the first time around. She had always attributed that to her last minute decision to go against her family's wishes. Graduation night, she and three other friends had joked about seeing the world. All four of them had been fascinated with the idea of the muggle world none of them had ever been to. She'd stared at her desert, picking at it uneasily and in a moment changed her life.  
  
"I'm going to do it," she'd said. Her friends had stared at her incredulously, but she'd not been swayed.  
  
Predictably, her father had been furious. Her mother had tried to 'talk some sense into her'. Neither of them had changed her mind.  
  
She laughed, the sound just this side of hysterical. Her friends had thought she'd gone crazy and had taken their turn trying to talk her out of it. They hadn't changed her mind either. The dream hadn't come that night, or the next, or the next. She'd spent the next several years carefree and happy, jumping between the muggle world and the wizarding one with ease, and spending her nights free from the recurring dream that had plagued her since she'd begun school.   
  
Of course, despite her parents fears, she'd continued her education; though, she could hardly say it had been a traditional one. She'd taken courses at both wizarding universities and muggle ones -- a class here and a class there, never worrying about how long it was taking. Some of her interests had contributed toward actually graduating, others had not, but she hadn't cared. She studied what she wanted, when she wanted. And even with her haphazard approach she had finally graduated.  
  
For reasons she could not understand, that event had been what convinced her that she'd altered her life-path enough to avoid the fate in her dream and she'd allowed the nightmare to slip into the realm of memory, stored alongside all her other childhood fears. It was then she'd heard about the opening at Hogwarts. They had needed a divination professor, and she had wanted a job. She'd applied.  
  
The interview had been . . . strange for several reasons, the first being that the school's Headmaster had not met her in his office, but rather off the school grounds entirely. That had made her nervous. Actually meeting him had momentarily terrified her. He looked *exactly* like he had in that long buried nightmare. That had almost made her turn down the position even before finishing the interview. Instead, a vision had overtaken her, and Albus Dumbledore had hired her on the spot.  
  
Teetering between accepting and running for her life, Sybil had finally decided to accept. She could always run again if the dream returned. Just because she'd met *one* of the participants in the dream, didn't mean she'd meet the others. It didn't mean it was going to happen. When her nights remained prophecy free, she'd eventually relaxed.  
  
Of course, there'd been 'conditions' on her hire. She understood them. She even agreed with them, even when the held her up to ridicule and scorn. All of her colleagues -- except Albus -- thought her a hoax, a charlatan. She encouraged that idea no matter how much she hated it, no matter how lonely it made her. It was necessary to protect herself, Harry Potter, and everyone else vital to the destruction of Voldemort. Her visions, infrequent though they may be, were a key part of the light's defense, but the only reason they were so effective was only two people knew about them.  
  
Lifting herself to her knees, the sounds of the kettle on the fire alerting her to the fact that it was nearly at a boil, Sybil removed it from the heat. She rose slowly and continued her soothing ritual, the movements by now so familiar that she need not concentrate.  
  
Shortly after her arrival at Hogwarts as the newest professor of divination, she'd, quite literally, run into Severus Snape. She'd gasped, and he'd scowled. He'd snarled some question or other that she really hadn't heard, and she'd fainted. That was something that she would *never* live down, not even when the truth about her gift was finally revealed. For weeks afterward she'd thought about quitting. She'd thought about telling Albus she simply couldn't do it, while going to bed each night dreading the return of her dream.  
  
It hadn't returned, and she'd relaxed yet again, believing she was still safe.  
  
The night she'd heard Hermione Granger's name called during the sorting ceremony had been another heart-stopping moment. She'd finally met all three of the main participants in her nightmare. Grateful to have been sitting at the time, she'd passed off her overt reactions as some ridiculous vision or other. She couldn't even remember now what she'd said it had been about.  
  
She'd gone to bed that night fully intending on leaving Hogwarts far behind her, but the dream stayed away. Wary, but hopeful, she'd stayed, taking her decision one day a time. When the girl came year after year, and the dream did not, Sybil once again felt certain it was gone for good.  
  
Nearly four months ago that had all changed. Hermione Granger's seventh year at Hogwarts found the girl vastly different than before. Gone was the long, uncontrollable hair. It now fell in soft curls to just below her shoulders, the color darker with just a hint of red.  
  
Sybil frowned, remembering the welcoming feast all too clearly. Apparently, the disrespectful girl had decided she no longer liked the way she looked, and over summer break had indulged herself with a make-over. While Sybil had no clue whether the chit had used magic or muggle methods to change her appearance, the overall effect was startling. It had left the girl looking *exactly* as she had in Sybil's long ago nightmare, a nightmare dreamt before the child had even been born, and it had taken every ounce of Sybil's self control to keep her in her seat, to keep her from running as fast and as a far as she could.  
  
That had been the night the dream returned. It returned in all its vivid, frightening glory. That had been the beginning of her ritual; though the pattern of her thoughts during it changed often. Only one thing was consistent. She always tried to find ways to defeat the prophecy. She could leave, she knew. It *was* the surest way. There was only one problem with that. Despite the problems, the deceptions, and all the pretense, she had built a life here, a good life, and she wanted to keep it. Over the years Hogwarts had become her home, and she had no intention of being run out of it. She would simply have to find another way to prevent it.  
  
She laughed sourly, sipping her finally finished tea. At first she'd thought that it was possible the dour Professor would seduce the student. With Miss Granger's incredible thirst for knowledge, it probably wouldn't have been difficult. All he would have had to do was show the girl a little favoritism -- after all, what teacher doesn't appreciate a brilliant student who excels in their class? But as the girl matured Sybil had seen no sign of it -- and yes, she'd watched. She'd watched the two of them *very* carefully. As the girl grew, Severus Snape had continued to treat her with utter contempt, her and her two friends seeming to receive the brunt of his often foul temper.  
  
Sybil sighed heavily. She wished the bastard *had* seduced the girl. It would have been perfect. She'd have gotten him fired in a heartbeat, separating the two of them and making it impossible for her nightmare to become reality. As it stood now-- She shook her head. It didn't seem possible really. It was quite obvious to anyone who looked that Severus loathed Miss Granger, and that Miss Granger returned the feeling full fold.  
  
Unfortunately, she knew without doubt that if she did not find a way to stop it, Severus Snape would marry Hermione Granger and she -- Sybil Trelawney -- would die on their wedding day. Time was running out and she was getting desperate. If something didn't change soon, she would be forced to leave. Sometimes, in the dead of night, she considered . . . darker paths, paths that only surfaced immediately following another front row seat to her own death. If she hadn't know for certain that both were vital to ensure the destruction of Voldemort. . . .  
  
//After all,// said the frightened girl deep inside her, //aren't you allowed to defend yourself?//  
  
Sybil shivered at the dreadful words that slithered tauntingly through her thoughts.  
  
//Is your life less important than theirs?//  
  
**No!** she denied. She had as much right to survive as they did.  
  
//All it would take--//  
  
"No!" Sybil shouted, shattering the silence and her trance. "I'll find another way," she vowed, these words whispered fiercely. One last shudder waved through her as she pushed away the insidiously tempting ideas. **No,** she thought again, she would run, leaving behind everything she knew before she took that step.  
  
Blinking, she turned her gaze outward, noticing -- gratefully -- that it was finally dawn, the light clearing away the thoughts best kept in the dark recesses of the night and her mind. She stretched as she rose slowly to her feet. She had time. This was the last day before winter break, and nothing could happen between the two of them with Miss Granger safely tucked away in the muggle world and Severus here at Hogwarts, after all.  
  
**Yes,** she thought, hope rising with the sun. **There is time.**  
  
TBC  
Kiristeen  
Feedback: Food of the Muses. : )  
Kiristeen@kiristeen.com  
  
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	2. Chapter One

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Chapter One  
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Severus Snape strode down the dungeon corridor, his robes billowing around him. Slowing only long enough to deal with the wards on his chamber door, he snarled the password, wishing for a solid door to slam behind him. A deep, calming breath once the portrait closed saw Severus clenching and unclenching his fists in a vain attempt to ease his fury.  
  
This was the second time he'd been invited home this winter break. The first time had been an unmitigated disaster, and only his innate respect for the woman he called mother had kept him from the words that would have severed any hope of maintaining, or rather regaining, ties to his family. What he'd *wanted* to do had been to shout her down, leaving her in absolutely no doubt how very little he appreciated her meddling in his private life.   
  
He was perfectly content the way he was. Well, perhaps that *was* stretching the truth a bit. Content couldn't really describe his current life, not with the double life he lived. He *could*, however, say he had absolutely no interest in 'settling down', as his mother so quaintly put it.  
  
He sighed, his eyes closing as he allowed his head to drop back. He'd gone home that first visit to find that his *dear*, *sweet*   
  
**Not in this life time!**   
  
mother had arranged a dinner party, one that, among 'filler' guests, had to have included every single witch his mother knew that was even remotely close to his age. In his opinion, it had been an overly obvious set up, and as such, had been humiliating in the extreme. The only good thing that had come of that visit, had been her promise that she would never again ambush him with that kind of . . . sordid event.  
  
Hissing angrily, Severus finally gave up trying to calm himself and strode across the room, quickly pouring himself a healthy dose of firewhiskey. Downing it, he breathed carefully, relishing the firey feel of the liquor as it slid down his throat, and the false warmth that spread out from his abdomen.   
  
He could not *believe* he'd fallen into her trap so easily a second time. Oh, she'd kept to her promise -- one he'd made certain she remembered before accepting her invitation to visit -- technically speaking. This time had been different. This time had been worse, infinitely worse. Instead of a party, where, while humiliating, he could at least move about the room, spreading attention among an entire throng of guests, she had invited one other person. He had spent most of the night treading a fine line between reigning in his temper enough to avoid pissing off his mother -- who he well knew had a temper to match his own -- and being distant enough that the witch she'd invited didn't get *IDEAS*. He had ended up being distantly polite --a farse that was trying at the best of times, and damn near impossible while he was angry -- and had ended up engaged in inane conversation that had done little to hold his interest and did everything to incite his temper.  
  
He could not recall a night -- barring those involving Voldemort -- he had been more grateful to see end. Unfortunately, it hadn't ended with the woman's departure. No, after she'd gone home, he'd still had to face his mother. *That* had not been pleasant.  
  
  
  
  
~~~~~Holding onto his temper by the thinnest of margins, Severus counted to 10 before rounding to face his mother. Eyes narrowing, he waited. He wanted to hear what excuse she'd come up with to explain her broken promise.  
  
Shaking her head, Serapha Snape sighed heavily. "And just *what* was wrong with her?" she asked icily.  
  
"Wrong, Mother?" he asked incredulously. "Better to ask what *wasn't* wrong," he continued, his anger returning swiftly.  
  
"Oh, come now, Severus, dear. Don't be tiresome."  
  
"Tiresome!?" He couldn't believe his mother's utter gall. She was being an interfering busybody, and *he* was being 'tiresome'.  
  
"She comes from an excellent family. Breeding does tell, you know. She's powerful, ambitious, not to mention beautiful."  
  
"Oh, let's not mention that," Severus drawled mockingly. "You know very well, I don't give a damn about that."  
  
"Language."  
  
Severus resisted rolling his eyes. "Which is all beside the point, Mother. I already told you. I do not want to . Get . Married!"  
  
"We've had this discussion before, Severus, and I'll not have it again. You're 38 and it's high time you stopped acting like a teenager and started taking on your familial responsibilities," Serapha snapped back. "I've given you ample time to do this on your own."  
  
His mother's eyes narrowed ominously. " *Don't* try to tell me you're waiting for 'just the right person'! Is that what the big hang up is? You're waiting for *love*?" she spat contemptuously.  
  
Severus shuddered. "Of course not! I would, however, like to actually have something in common with the woman I marry, *If* I--  
  
"When."  
  
Taking a deep breath, Severus forced himself not to reach out and strangle -- or alternately hex -- his mother. "Very well, Mother, I will, for the moment, concede that it will happen *eventually* -- If only to avoid another layer on this bloody argument. However--"  
  
"Good," Serapha nodded sharply. "I wouldn't have believed you if you had claimed to want *love*. You're not the type."  
  
Severus growled lowly, gritting his teeth. His mother was being deliberately obtuse, purposely missing -- or ignoring -- his entire position!  
  
"And we're not having an argument. I'm discussing. You're throwing a temper tantrum."  
  
"Temper ta-- Mother! I'm *not* thirteen, and I am most definitely *not* throwing any kind of 'tantrum'."  
  
"You most certainly are, dear."  
  
The urge to whip out his wand and silence his meddling mother growing by leaps and bounds, Severus controlled it by striding past her and throwing himself into one of the sitting room chairs. His frown deepened immediately as suddenly he felt exactly like the thirteen year old boy he'd just denied being. What was it about his mother that could *always* leave him feeling like that?  
  
The soft sigh that followed him grated on his nerves.  
  
"I can certainly understand your desire for someone who shares your interests," Serapha began again, taking the seat across from him. "What about Minerva McGonagall? Surely you can't deny--"  
  
Severus' jaw dropped. "Surely you're joking, Mother!"  
  
"Of course not. This is not a joking matter, Severus. I thought you realized that by now."  
  
"Stop this, Mother. I'm begging you." He couldn't bloody believe this. He'd been reduced to begging. Severus Snape hadn't *begged* anyone in a very long time.  
  
"No. Now tell me what's wrong with your colleague. I know very well her family line is acceptable. She *must* be intelligent. She would have to be to hold the multiple positions she does at Hogwarts."  
  
Beyond anger and swiftly moving into exhaustion, Severus dropped his head onto the chair backing. "Mother," he began tightly, swiftly discarding most of the perfectly acceptable reasons she wasn't acceptable to *him* and latched onto the only one that would decisively cut off his mother's interest in Minerva. "She's not available."  
  
"Hmph. I could have sworn-- No matter. I'll keep looking."  
  
"No you won't!" Severus ordered, jumping back to his feet. "You promised the last time you would not pursue this any longer! You've already--" **Merlin!** He was sounding just like his outraged first year students -- minus the whining, of course. Severus Snape did *not* whine!  
  
"I did no such thing Severus Snape. I promised I wouldn't arrange any more parties for you. I will not abrogate my responsibilities as--"  
  
"I'm going home, Mother," Severus interrupted, for the moment beyond caring whether he insulted his mother by being overtly rude. It was better that than what he *really* wanted to do. "Please realize you do not run my life. I will marry when I see fit and not a moment sooner," he continued, crossing quickly toward the fireplace and grabbing the necessary pinch of floo powder.  
  
"Very well. Good night, Severus."  
  
"Good night, Mother."  
  
"Oh, and Severus?"  
  
Severus stifled his groan. "What, Mother?"  
  
"I forgive you for being unconscionably rude to me."  
  
"Thank you, Mother," he replied tightly, teeth once again grinding together as he locked his jaw to keep back his angry retort. Throwing the floo powder into the fireplace he quickly muttered, "Hogwarts."  
  
His mother gave a parting shot as he felt the first pull of the floo system. "I'll send you a list, dear."  
  
**Do that!** he thought rebelliously, **and it'll see the bottom of my fireplace as soon as I receive it.**   
  
As he stumbled out of Hogwart's main fireplace, Severus breathed a sigh of relief. He'd survived it, and better yet, he was home.  
  
"Enjoy your visit home, Severus?" Albus asked from the shadows.  
  
Heart jumping into his throat, Severus whirled, automatically reaching for the wand he stored in his sleeve. Stopping himself halfway there, he crossed his arms across his chest instead. "Do you enjoy startling me, Albus?" he snarled.  
  
"Of course not," he replied amiably. "My apologies if I did so."  
  
Giving up -- he'd already had one inane argument today -- Severus let it go. "It was fine," he replied shortly, already heading away.  
  
"Hmmmm," Albus replied speculatively. "You seem rather tense for having had an enjoyable evening home."  
  
Severus froze, wondering if it was even *remotely* possible Albus knew what his mother was up to. **No,** he thought immediately, **thank Merlin!** Despite all appearances to the contrary, the Headmaster did *not* know everything -- just almost everything within the walls of Hogwarts.~~~~~~~  
  
  
  
  
Relaxing into the artificial glow of the alcohol, Severus had to laugh. As . . . infuriating as the evening had been, now that he was safe, sound, and still *single*, and most importantly back in his own home, it was kind of funny to look back on. He shook his head. If it had been anyone but him going through it, he'd have thought it hilarious and watched the preceedings with malicious glee. Unfortunately, there was nothing worse than parents to make *anyone* feel like a child again. He briefly wondered if Albus' parents were still living, and if so, whether or not they could still do that to him.  
  
It would be nice to know it actually *stopped* at some point. He'd never ask. He didn't want to run the chance of finding out it never stopped. Somehow, it just didn't seem right that Albus Dumbledore -- the man who bloody well seemed to know *everything* that went on around him -- could be made to feel like a recalcitrant child.  
  
The world would never recover from that discovery, Severus decided firmly.  
  
  
  
TBC Kiristeen Feedback: Muse food, and deliciously craved. : ) Kiristeen@kiristeen.com  
  
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	3. Chapter Two

Ezmerelda -- Thanks! And yes, it is *definitely* a far too familiar feeling. LOL Glad you're enjoying the story.  
Electryone -- Thanks and agreed, poor Severus. Umm, as far as making Hermione "gorgeous" I had to go back and reread, cuz I didn't remember doing that, and I have to say, nope. Didn't do that. LOL Hate that cliche, myself. I merely said, paraphrased, that she'd learned to control her hair, and that she now looked "different". It was striking to Trelawney because for the first time, Hermione looks *exactly* like she always has in the Professor's vision dreams. : ) Hope that clears that up for you.  
Dragonsdaughter -- Oh, yes, agreed, and the poor guy hasn't even gotten to the worst part yet. LOL  
  
  
  
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Chapter Two  
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Sybil forced herself not to fidget during breakfast. Glamours did much to hide the sins of sleepless nights, but nervous twitches were easily seen by her colleagues. A week ago, she'd finally given up hope of both staying *and* managing to change her vision. There was a packed bag in her chambers, one that held everything she couldn't leave behind. Now, she was simply biding her time. She would leave the moment she heard 'the good news'. That way, there would be no chance of her actually being present at the crucial moment of her vision.  
  
Frowning, she resisted the urge to sneak a look at the Potions Professor. As far as she could tell there was *still* absolutely nothing between the two. It was only the increasing urgency of her nightly visions that told her it would be soon . . . very soon. And they did continue to arrive nightly. Only when she resorted to taking dreamless sleep potions did she manage to avoid the dreams, and even then her sleep was restless.   
  
She took it far too often, she knew, carefully mixing where she received her supply from. She didn't want anyone to know. Even if her so-called colleagues would pass off her nightmares as nothing more significant, word leaking to Albus that she was having them so often would be disastrous.  
  
//Why would it?//  
  
Sybil froze. Albus would believe her. He *knew* she had the sight.  
  
"Are you alright?"  
  
**Speak of the devil,** Sybil thought with a start.  
  
"Yes, Albus, quite alright, I assure you. Just a vision of the future happiness of one of our very own," she cooed dramatically, fluttering her eyelashes ridiculously. She couldn't believe she'd said that. Was she going to tell? Was she going to bring it all out into the open? Sybil's breath caught in her throat. Could *this* be the opening she'd been waiting for?  
  
"Oh, *do* tell," Albus encouraged, his eyes twinkling merrily.  
  
Sybil hesitated, covering her indecision with the false trappings of popular divination. This might get the man fired. Even the accusation of such a thing might be enough to permanently ruin his reputation. Was she willing to go that far in the cold light of day?  
  
"It's rather shocking," she hedged, still uncertain whether this was the course she should adopt.  
  
"Indeed?" Albus asked, his grin, nearly hidden by his beard, widening.  
  
"Oh, for Merlin's sake, Albus!" Severus snapped, keeping his voice just low enough not to be heard by the students just finishing up their first dinner back from winter break. "This is utter rubbish, and well you know it."  
  
Sybil's eyes narrowed, her mind suddenly made up. "Well, I'm quite delighted that I'm the first, thanks to my visions, to tell you that our very dear Potions Master will be getting married soon."  
  
Severus' fork clattered to his plate as he graced her with a scathing look of contempt. All side conversations at the head table ceased abruptly, their attention now focused on none other than the source of her nightmares. Sybil merely grinned at him.  
  
"Congratulations, Severus," she purred, holding tight reigns on the fear raging through her. Even speaking of it obliquely gave free reign to the terror that usually only assaulted her alone in her chambers.  
  
Severus' gaze hardened further, but Sybil saw something else. Was that the faintest tinge of horror she saw lurking behind the contempt? Did her pronouncement scare him? "Sybil, please tell me what medication you are on," he drawled, mocking her. "If it's of your own making, you could make a fortune bottling it for the incurably insane."  
  
Her grin faltered, but she held her pose. She would *not* let him get to her. Beside her, Albus let out a short, strangled chuckle. Minerva didn't bother hiding her mirth. She laughed full out, her voice ringing through the hall, and suddenly every single eye in the room was focused on the high table. If she was going to do it, now was the time. She could fell the high and mighty Severus Snape in one fell blow.  
  
"Oh, you *have* to tell us, Sybil," Minerva said through continued laughter. "Just *who* is the lucky woman?"  
  
"Minerva!" Severus snapped instantly, turning his rather intimidating glare in the older woman's direction.  
  
"Oh, yes, you *must* reveal all," opted Poppy, grinning.  
  
It was obvious to Sybil that none of them believed her, they'd simply latched on to the best opportunity any of them had ever seen to twit Severus. Her grin widened. All the better for her. Humiliation coming right up! She opened her mouth to deliver the coup de gras, then hesitated suddenly, her conscience pricking her. Ruining Severus Snape was bad enough, but there was another party to consider. The poor girl wouldn't be able to show herself for weeks -- at least until the student body found something *else* to gossip about. With purely a mental sigh, she altered what she was going to say.  
  
"Well," she began, purposely allowing her voice to sound mischievous. "No, I think perhaps I should leave it to Severus to reveal the lucky young woman. He should have *something* to announce, should he not?" Her grin widening, she lowered her gaze with false humility, all the while keeping a very close eye on her target. She almost laughed. If the man had been a porcupine, every quill would have been standing straight up. He was fairly *vibrating* with outrage as the faculty once again turned their eyes to him. Surprisingly, it seemed they'd all kept their voices low enough that the students could not hear them -- though it was obvious they were dying to know what was going on.  
  
All except Albus, she suddenly noted, whose eyes -- while still twinkling -- held a question. She nodded minutely and his eyebrow shot upward, the only indication of his surprise. He returned his attention to Severus at once.  
  
Madam Hooch -- Sybil balked at thinking of her on a first name basis; the woman was positively cold most days -- beat them all to the question of the moment, her normally stern mouth curled upward in the biggest grin Sybil had *ever* seen on the woman. "Severus, you've been keeping secrets. Surely, you would tell us if someone had caught your elusive attention."  
  
"I most assuredly would *not*!" Severus snapped angrily.  
  
"Oh!" Minerva grinned. "So someone *has*?"  
  
Groaning, Severus stood abruptly. "I'm suddenly reminded of a table of 1st years!" he snapped as stepped away from his seat.  
  
"Why, thank you," Albus replied charmingly.  
  
"It wasn't a compliment!" Severus growled, spinning away and striding toward the side door.  
  
"You neatly avoided answering the question, Severus," Minerva called after him, her voice finally loud enough to carry to the students, who were suddenly looking at the Potions Master with intent interest.  
  
He stopped, but didn't bother to turn around as he replied. "The answer is *no*, Minerva." With that, he continued toward the door.  
  
He'd almost made it to freedom, Sybil noted, when Albus rose and called to him. Hand gripping the handle, Severus half-turned and waited, warily watching as the older man approached. "Yes, Albus?" he asked, his words overly polite as Sybil strained to hear.  
  
"You're mother owled me this morning, asking for a tour of the school."  
  
"What!?" Severus yelped, immediately calming himself as he cast a sidelong glance at the students who had jumped at his shocking outburst. Sybil had to bite her lip to keep from laughing out loud. As he continued, his voice lowered, and Sybil once again found herself straining to hear the quiet conversation. She noticed, with a certain amount of satisfaction, that side conversation had yet to resume at the head table -- or anywhere else in the great hall.  
  
"You told her no, of course," Severus continued.  
  
"Well, no, of course I didn't."  
  
"Why not?" Severus asked, and even to Sybil, his voice sounded a touch petulant. Her eyes widened.  
  
"I saw no reason to deny her request, Severus. It isn't exactly the first time we've had family members of either students or staff that wished to inspect Hogwarts."  
  
"When?" Severus asked flatly.  
  
"Tomorrow."  
  
"Fine," Severus snapped. With one last glare at the head table, whose occupants were studiously looking anywhere but his direction -- though they remained absolutely silent -- he finally made his exit, slamming the door behind him.  
  
"Well, that was fun," Minerva murmured, her grin still full, "but I need to get going."  
  
Sybil only paid Minerva slight attention as the older woman made her way to the same door Severus had slammed, her desertion an example the remaining staff members followed. Most of Sybil's attention, however, was on Albus as he strolled slowly back her direction.  
  
"Sybil, if you would be so good as to join me in my office?" he asked, after the last of the staff disappeared.  
  
She nodded, rising to join him as he too left the great hall.  
  
  
  
TBC  
Kiristeen  
Feedback: Food of the Muses and definitely craved. Constructive critisism welcomed. : )  
Kiristeen@kiristeen.com  
  
. 


	4. Chapter Three

**********  
Chapter Three  
**********  
  
  
"You wanted to see me, Albus?" Severus asked abruptly as he swept into the Headmaster's office. The curt, for Albus, summons had been the topper on what had already promised to be a particularly foul day, and Severus wished only to get it over with. First thing upon waking he'd received an owl from his thrice damned mother -- the third one she'd sent since the last time he'd been home. It contained the same information the other two had -- a list of possible wives. He'd burned it, just like he had the others, beyond irritated that she'd bothered to send in the first place considering she was planning today to badger him in person.  
  
"Yes, Severus, I did," Albus said easily. "Please, take a seat."  
  
Severus did so warily, every instinct suddenly on alert. While Albus always played the part of an overly congenial grandfather figure unless highly provoked, the maddening twinkle his eyes usually sported, as well as his nearly ever-present grin was absent from his expression and that did not bode well for the topic of conversation. For one of the first times since the day he'd returned to Hogwarts Severus Snape had to fight to sit still and not fidget like a schoolboy sent to the Headmaster for some unnamed misbehavior.  
  
"Something tells me," he drawled, locking gazes with the Headmaster, "that I'm really not going to 'enjoy' our little . . . chat."  
  
For just a split second the mischievous twinkle was back, but it disappeared as quickly as it had come. "No, Severus, I don't imagine you will."  
  
**Bloody hell!** Severus thought sourly. If the situation was bad enough that even Albus was being 'reassuring', it wasn't good at all.  
  
"Before we begin, I just want to make sure you realize that I have not trusted many people as much as I *continue* to trust you."  
  
**Okay,** Severus thought with a brief flutter of fear. **That didn't sound ominous at all!** "Understood," was all he said. His thoughts flew in circles, however. What could Albus possible be so very concerned with? Was the Headmaster being pressured about his continued presence on staff? Not many people knew his true history; though, he supposed it was quite possible angry parents might have taken complaints to the Board of Governors.  
  
"I also want you to know that I'm not going to be asking probing or personal questions."  
  
Severus snorted. "You'd be one of the few lately," he muttered. **So, not the board, then. Something else.** He frowned. Was Albus possibly not as . . . content as he'd let on about this unexpected familial visit?  
  
Albus cocked his head, his expression turning curious.  
  
"Nothing important, Albus," he hurriedly assured. The last bloody thing he needed was to have the Headmaster figuring out why, exactly his mother was *really* coming to Hogwarts. He would *never* hear the end of it. That and he wasn't quite certain that Albus wouldn't *encourage* her.  
  
The Headmaster nodded, sighing deeply before leaning forward intently. "I know you're quite aware of all the rules and regulations governing appropriate and inappropriate staff behavior."  
  
Severus almost wilted in relief. It *was* about his mother's impromptu visit. He wasn't happy about it himself, and he gleefully latched onto such a wonderfully convenient -- and mother convincing -- excuse to use against her. "I assure you, Sir. I will make sure my mother realizes she cannot simply--"  
  
"No, no. You mistake my meaning completely. Your mother is more than welcome to visit." Albus grinned briefly. "Provided, of course, she doesn't make *too* much a habit of it."  
  
Severus almost groaned. It wasn't the Ministry, because the Headmaster had alluded to it being 'personal' in nature, and it wasn't about his mother's visit. What the bloody hell did that leave? Not much, in his opinion. "I would appreciate it, Albus, if you would just get to the point then," he replied tightly, clenching his teeth in a growing sense of frustration -- something his private chats with the Headmaster often caused, "as I seem to, as usual, be utterly lost."  
  
"Very well, to put it rather bluntly, I simply wanted to remind you, that while I cannot, and would not want to, control any possible . . . interactions the staff may have with students once they are no longer students here, any . . . interest should not be acted upon until such time that I would not be forced to also . . . take an interest."  
  
Severus blinked in shock, feeling his jaw drop, but completely unable to do anything about it. The Headmaster could *not* be implying. . . . He jumped to his feet, his jaw snapping shut with an audible click. "Surely, you do not think-- You cannot possibly be accusing me of--"  
  
Albus held up a hand halting Severus' stumbling, outraged words, which he held back by only thinnest margins of control. "I'm not *accusing* you of anything at all."  
  
"It bloody well sounded like it to me!"  
  
"Which is why, as you should recall, I began this rather sensitive conversation stating my utmost trust."  
  
Severus frowned. He had at that. Then why? Severus dropped back into his chair wearily. This conversation had already taken more out of him than his last evening spent with Voldemort and company. His mind was simply not keeping up with the turns.  
  
"It has come to my attention that while you may not have *acted* on any possible interest, that said interest might actually exist."  
  
"I can assure you, I have never once had any *interest*, as you so delicately phrased it, in *any* student attending Hogwarts -- not since I've been here as staff, anyway." He wasn't entirely certain why he'd tagged that last bit on, though it would certainly take one possible loop out of an already loopy word game.  
  
"And you're certain of that?"  
  
"Of course I'm bloody well certain, Albus!"  
  
Albus grinned suddenly, the twinkle back.   
  
Severus' eyes narrowed. Why did that suddenly seem worse than the lack had earlier?  
  
"Very good, then," Albus said cheerily, rising -- Severus following his example swiftly. "Of course, after they're not students anymore, I wouldn't be concerned at all, you understand," he continued, heading towards the exit.  
  
Severus nearly growled, when suddenly, something clicked. He whirled on the barmy Headmaster. "This has something to do with that twit Trelawney, doesn't it!" he accused.  
  
Albus turned slowly. "Now, Severus be nice."  
  
"I will not!" Severus retorted. "Not when she's spreading such vulgar lies!"  
  
"What makes you think she has anything to do with this at all?"  
  
Severus rolled his eyes. "Nothing much," he replied bitterly. "I just find it amazing that on the heels of that ridiculous charade last evening, we are having this just as ridiculous conversation. Surely you don't take her sordid . . . meanderings seriously?"  
  
The headmaster's eyes hardened. "You know as well as I do, Severus, that her . . . abilities are not what the public usually sees."  
  
A shot of ice ran through Severus. He did indeed know that. The woman, useless on the whole, did occasionally have very serious visions of the future. He had discovered quite by accident that it was Sybil Trelawney that had prophesied Harry Potter's eventual destruction of Voldemort -- and had subsequently been sworn to secrecy.   
  
In the day to day dealings with the crazy witch, he pretty much forgot about it. He supposed that was a testament to her acting abilities, since she did a *very* good impression of a nut case -- seemingly 24 hours a day 7 days a week.  
  
He turned horror filled eyes toward the Headmaster. "You are *not* telling me that you believe she's had a *real* vision about me . . . and a student?"  
  
In the silence that followed, the Headmaster's expression turned thoughtful and he studied Severus long and hard. Shifting uncomfortably as the silence wore on, Severus was tempted to demand an answer when Albus finally spoke.  
  
"Indeed she has, Severus."  
  
"Who?" he demanded before he thought. "No, never mind. I don't want to know. I will say this only once. She's wrong," he said firmly, finally sweeping past the Headmaster and down the stairs. He had to get out of there before he did something he would actually regret.  
  
  
TBC  
Kiristeen  
Feedback: Inspiration at its best! : )  
Kiristeen@kiristeen.com  
  
. 


	5. Chapter four

**********  
Chapter Four  
**********  
  
  
Serapha Snape smiled as she approached the ornate gates of Hogwarts. A seer, she'd been diligently working against the fulfillment of a vision she'd had. She shuddered involuntarily. There was no way it would come about as long as she had breath in her body. She was making progress, though. While her son was stubborn -- and proving to be just as obstinate as she had expected -- he came by that honestly. Serapha Snape was as stubborn as day was long. Her late husband hadn't exactly been the soul of compromise either.   
  
The very night that Severus had taken the dark mark, she'd woke screaming. The nightmare visions allowing her to watch as her only son wreathed in agony from the dark magic used to mark him as Voldemort's own. Thus had begun their estrangement -- though her son had never discovered how, exactly, they'd found out so quickly. Her husband had been livid. As righteous as the next pureblood, and as proud of his lineage, he had found the half-blood to be a puffed up, hypocritical upstart of the worst kind and had forbidden his family to associate with him in any way.   
  
Severus' rebellion had been a slap in the face and Alamar Snape had thrown his son out of the house without so much as a by your leave. It hadn't been a pretty scene and had left lasting scars deep inside all of them. Nothing Serapha tried would ease the tensions between father and son, and she'd been torn between them, left with a bitter husband and grieving for the loss of her son.  
  
She sighed as she approached the front doors to the school, bringing her thoughts back to the present. It was just as she'd remembered it. Hogwarts was the unchangeable icon in a forever changing world. It was strangely reassuring to be reminded of this, and she felt comforted by its very solid reality.   
  
She almost giggled. She knew very well that Severus had probably burned the letters she'd sent, letters that had contained the names of several pureblood witches that would be eminently suitable -- in the eyes of the wizarding world -- as wives for a pureblood of the Snape line. It was funny really. She had constructed the list very carefully, knowing full-well that her son would find each and every one of them offensive in some way. Most of the witches on that list didn't have the sense the gods gave a flea, and none of them had *any* interest in potions, nor in the more serious issues facing the wizarding world. If he'd taken the time to actually look at it -- which, oddly enough, Serapha was certain he had -- he'd have known instantly that none of them suited him, even if he *had* been actively looking. It probably simply served to reinforce the idea that she knew nothing about him. Even the woman she'd had show up on her son's second winter visit had been a trial of insipid conversation that *she* had barely tolerated.  
  
She still didn't know how Severus had managed to control that raging temper of his, nor how he got through that evening *without* insulting by sarcastic insinuation every tiny thing about the woman. Serapha was well aware of her son's reputation . . . well earned reputation. She was actually very proud of her son for that night. It had taken inordinate amounts of self control.  
  
What Severus didn't realize -- she hoped -- was all the trouble she'd gone to, to find the absolutely worst matches she possibly could. If he did, all her efforts would be wasted; he'd know what she was up to. Contrary to what Severus should believe, Serapha knew quite well where her son's interests lay, and what would and wouldn't attract him. A Ravenclaw by nature, she hadn't spent most of her adult life living with, loving, and studying two Slytherins without learning a thing or two about subtlety and trickery. She still may not fully understand the underlying motivations of someone of Slytherin tendencies, but she *had* learned to work around, and through, the walls and assorted defenses they put up. Her son was simply a tougher nut to crack than most.  
  
The door to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry swung open easily under her hand, and she stepped gratefully inside. It felt like coming home, odd that she should still feel that way after so many years away. She grinned crookedly. Everything *did* seem smaller, though. To her surprise, no sooner had the door closed behind her than Severus appeared from a side hall.  
  
"Severus," she called out, heart swelling. She really hadn't expected him to meet her.  
  
His back to her, he froze, his hands clenching briefly into fists before he slowly turned to face her. A faint smile -- obviously forced -- greeted her. "Mother," he said coolly, giving her a single regal nod.  
  
Well, so much for that, she thought sourly. He hadn't expected her yet, after all. On the heels of that disappointment, however, she immediately noticed that he looked tired . . . soul tired. The lines around his eyes, and creasing his forehead seemed deeper than even last month. She frowned, her anger and worry at the double life he was leading roaring back to life. Sometimes, as much as she admired and respected Albus Dumbledore, she hated the man for what he was doing to her son.  
  
Oh, yes, she knew about *that*, too. This time, however, she'd kept the information to herself. She didn't know, and didn't dare ask what had been the final straw for her son, but for weeks before his emotional breakdown, she'd become increasingly restless, shadow monsters stalking her dreams, leaving behind a unnamed, but very real fear for her son's life. The night his world had fallen apart, as with the night he'd entered into Voldemort's service, she'd dreamed. As she did so, she'd been torn between being grateful she couldn't hear what was being said, and desperately wanting to know. As she'd watched him silently run to Hogwart's Headmaster, and amid shame and tears, tell of what he'd done, she'd settled for being grateful she couldn't hear about the depths to which her son had fallen. No mother needed to know that. It was enough for her to know that he'd finally come to his senses . . . no matter the cause.  
  
"You're looking well," she lied, smiling as she stepped toward him, slipping her arm through his and curving her fingers around the inside of his elbow.   
  
He snorted, making plain his opinion and his knowledge of her small deceit.  
  
She shrugged mentally. No matter. It was a mother's prerogative to compliment her children -- whether or not said compliment was true. She was glad to note that no matter his personal demons and preferences, he still automatically curled his arm in the age old gesture of a man escorting a woman. Sarcasm and anger could both be tolerated, to a degree, but manners -- or lack thereof -- told all.  
  
"Did you take the time to look over the list I sent you, Severus, dear?"  
  
"I did not," her son replied firmly.  
  
**Liar,** she thought fondly, almost smirking. **Curiosity alone would have had you at least *look* at it.**  
  
"You didn't even *glance* at it before you burned it, then?" she pressed. The startled look, swiftly hidden, that he gave her, told her she'd been right. She very carefully did not smile. Carefully rolling her eyes just the tiniest bit, she glared at him. "How can you select a proper candidate, if you won't take this seriously?" she asked sternly, then waited for the inevitable explosion. Right on schedule the arm beneath her fingers tensed, but to her surprise, he said nothing, merely quickened their pace. She, in turn, said nothing about the dreadful speed with which he was escorting her. Picking her battles was a lesson she'd learn long before he was even born.  
  
It wasn't until he stopped in front of a truly dreadful portrait and issued the proper ward removal spells and uttered the password that Serapha realized where they'd headed -- Severus' personal chambers. She headed straight for the bookshelves that lined one entire wall of his sitting room as she politely ignored her son's actions as he rewarded the door, adding privacy spells as well. When he'd finished and moved to join her she turned slowly to face him.  
  
"So, when *are* you going to begin taking this seriously?" she asked quietly, but firmly.  
  
"Mother, I am nearly 40 years old, an adult. Surely, even you can see that I am old enough to decide *on my own* how I will, or will not live my life."  
  
"What I see," she began heatedly, forcibly calming herself before continuing, "is a man who is refusing to live his life."  
  
"I do not want," he replied sharply, his voice raising, "nor do I need a wife!"  
  
She sighed. Evidently, she would have to bring on the hard sell. She'd hoped she wouldn't have to. "I had thought, given your decision to bury yourself here, that I was being overly generous in giving you such a large selection to chose from," she fired off the first round softly, waiting for him to verbally explode with righteous indignation. She didn't have to wait long.  
  
" *GENEROUS!?* " he sneered, a growl edging his voice. "You're trying to destroy my life!"  
  
She shook her head, calmly forging ahead. "I *could* simply have chosen a witch for you. That *is* my right. Then, where would you be?"  
  
He froze in front of her, his expression blanking, hardening into a mask Serapha found she could not read. " *Father* has that right," he said coldly, flatly, "or he did before he decided he couldn't be bothered with me."  
  
Serapha gasped, her chest tightening painfully. **Has?!** she thought, lightheaded, her stomach suddenly churning nauseatingly. Her sight of her son blurred as tears sprang into her eyes.  
  
"Oh come now, Mother," Severus ground out, deep sarcasm and disdain filling his voice, "surely you at least know me better than to think *tears* will work as a weapon against me."  
  
Rage of her own flared to life inside Serapha and she stepped forward slowly, invading her son's personal space. "I have never," she said with deceptive calm, "resorted to tears, my son, they aren't subtle enough. I'm allowing *that* piece of utter disrespect to pass, because I just realized how right I was. You *have* buried yourself here. You truly do not know the cause of my tears, do you?" Serapha paused, confused. "How could you *not* know?"  
  
Frowning, Severus stared at her, his own confusion at the apparent change of subject clear. "What in Merlin's name are you going on about?"  
  
"Severus, your father was killed two weeks after he threw you out."  
  
"What?" he whispered hoarsely, paling alarmingly.  
  
Her plans temporarily set aside, her own pain shoved down, Serapha switched instantly to mother mode. "Come, Severus. Sit."   
  
**Before you pass out,** she added silently, guiding her shockingly compliant son toward the nearest chair. He sat without comment, not appearing to notice as she moved away. It didn't take her long to locate her son's stash of alcohol and she quickly poured him a healthy double dose. She held it out to him, not breaking the silence that had descended between them, but it wasn't until she actually placed it in his hand, however, that he noticed it.  
  
He downed it at once, seemingly not caring about the fire that had to be burning his mouth and throat from the strong firewhiskey.  
  
"He's dead?" he asked a moment later, sounding so much like the young teenager she'd last seen that fateful night.  
  
  
TBC  
Kiristeen  
Feedback -- the food of the gods and muses. Definitely Craved. : )  
Kiristeen@kiristeen.com  
  
  
.  



	6. Chapter Five

Ezmerelda -- Me either! I wouldn't want to discover it that way no matter how estranged I was. Glad you're still enjoying the story.  
  
  
  
**********  
Chapter Five  
**********  
  
  
Staring sightlessly into the fire his mother had stoked, Severus Snape tried to feel something . . . anything. What he wanted to do, was to rage at the world, and the unfairness of it all. Of course, he'd long known the fundamental truth that life was anything but fair. Fair was a concept thought up by irrevocably do-gooder Gryffindor types, and perpetuated by hopelessly sentimental Hufflepuff types. It certainly wasn't verified by an uncaring, utterly blind world. Today, however, had capped even his admittedly low view of the way the world worked.  
  
He sighed heavily. At this point, he'd even welcome a sense of grief; though, he'd not understand it, it would certainly be better than this nothingness. He didn't feel it, however. He didn't feel anything, he couldn't. He was numb, utterly numb.  
  
It had to be shock, he reasoned. What else could it be? Shock was known to do strange things to people . . . beyond the mere physical. Physically, it could kill. Mentally, it could twist the mind until the victim didn't know which way was up. He should get up and. . . .   
  
**And what?** he thought, blinking in surprise as he realized he'd already translated thought into action and was now standing. He didn't even remember moving.  
  
The calming potion -- that was what he needed. It was well known for its ability to help counteract the effects of shock. **Of course,** he thought, moving automatically toward his small private lab, **it works far better when combined with the Japanese invented Chi balancer -- and sleep.** Sleep he couldn't get right now, but the other two would serve well enough for the time being.  
  
He was several steps past the clock on his desk when it dawned on him what it said. Eyes widening, he turned back to double check. Sure enough, the cheeky thing read: Professor Severus Snape is five minutes late for double potions with the Slytherins and Gryffindors.  
  
Without so much as a single sound, Severus did an abrupt about face and headed toward his class. He could not remember a single other time he'd approached this particular class -- his 7th years -- feeling less . . . capable of facing them. They were not an easy class to teach, filled with bitter rivalries and four of his all-time least favorite students: Weasley, Potter, Granger, and *Longbottom*.  
  
Sighing as he approached the heavy dungeon door, he shook his head. His strange emotionless state would certainly make for an unusual class period -- if nothing else. He wondered briefly just how shocked his students would be. One deep breath later, he shoved open the door, allowing it to slam against the stone wall as he swept inside, purposely mimicking his usually entry.  
  
He noted absently the startled jumps and squeaks made by most of the class -- and, of course, the quickly cut off conversations. He almost smirked as he realized that this time, even the Slytherins had reacted to his entrance. Unusual for him, however, he ignored it all, head straight for the front of the classroom.  
  
"Today's potion," he began, "which you will be well aware of if you actually completed your reading assignment," he continued, losing himself in the suddenly welcome rhythm of a lecture. The rapid scritch of quills against parchment, the confused looks on half the class, strangely didn't irritate him. The sullen looks from most of the judgemental Gryffindors didn't phase him, and went completely unremarked on. Even the Slytherin muttered insults directed at said Gryffindor students didn't irritate him -- and hidden though he always kept it, it *did* irritate him.  
  
He was almost -- *almost* -- amused at the odd, pondering looks he was getting, which he had no doubt were revealing their curiosity as to why he had been late for the first time in their student history. He didn't enlighten them; though, he supposed it would be an amusing twist. They wouldn't expect it, and would throw half of them -- at least -- into a tailspin.  
  
"A reminder list of ingredients," he said finally, flicking his wand toward the blackboard and muttering the charm under his breath, "is on the blackboard. I expect most of you will fail to make it properly the first time, but try anyway." He smirked at the utterly predictable eye-rolls by both Weasley and Potter, and the huff of righteous indignation from Granger. He ignored the shudder from Longbottom, and nearly sneered at the quiet mocking laughter of Malfoy and his dumb as posts cronies.  
  
"Well?" he snapped, when not everyone moved instantly to begin gathering ingredients, sneering as he continued. "Do you need a guided tour?"  
  
The class responded with gratifying speed.  
  
He spun away, retreating to his desk. He had several assignments he could grade while he waited for the students to get far enough along with their brewing that he needed to keep a closer eye on things. No matter what was happening in his life, he was *not* going to allow it to break his impeccable record. No one had *ever* been seriously injured in his classes, and today was not the day that was going to change that -- interfering mothers and dead fathers aside.  
  
Barely ten minutes later, Severus found himself throwing down his quill in disgust. He wasn't even able to enjoy destroying the illusions of his students that they actually knew what they were writing about. He scanned the room and its occupants, wearing the glare he'd perfected over the years so as to be entirely automatic. He could glare, scowl, and sneer with the best of them, no matter his mood.  
  
He gaze travelled over the trio just as Miss Granger peeked up at him. His frown deepened and she immediately snapped her head back down toward her cauldron. What disturbed him had been her expression. She'd seemed . . . worried. **About what?** he wondered, then frowned. **Him?** He snorted, rising from his seat to begin his first stalking round of the classroom. **Maybe sometime next century.**  
  
He found himself, much to his dismay, revising that opinion about twenty minutes later. Every single time he bothered to glance over at the trio -- he was *not* paying inordinate attention to the nosy Miss Granger -- he caught her either in the process of glancing over his way, or quickly glancing back down. It was getting highly . . . irritating.  
  
He strode toward the back of the classroom, looming behind several students as he made his way around the room. Snapping his head around, he once again caught the cheeky chit staring. She snapped her head down . . . again, and he smirked, gliding soundlessly forward now that he was assured she had her entire attention focused on her work.   
  
"Miss Granger," he hissed, bending over her shoulder. She jumped, jerking her head around to stare at him in shock. "I suggest you keep your busy-body, Gryffindor curiosity on your potion, and out of things that do not concern you."  
  
"Yes, Professor," she squeaked, whipping her head back so she faced her cauldron.  
  
His stomach sank at her next words.  
  
"Oh, no!" she breathed, staring at her hand in horror.  
  
"What have you done now, Miss Granger!" he roared, even as he checked for himself. In her hand she held a now empty vial that should have been half filled with diced Karra root. Shifting his gaze he watched as the self-same ingredient sank slowly below the surface of the lightly bubbling liquid in her cauldron. His heart jumping into his throat, his mindvoice taunted him even as he shouted at the class, "Under your tables, everyone, NOW!"  
  
//Well, you wanted to feel. Is this enough excitement for you?//  
  
**Sod off!** he told himself as he grabbed Miss Granger off her stool, curling himself around her and pulling them both under the sturdy work table.  
  
With only seconds to spare, Miss Granger's cauldron exploded. In a loud hiss, he berated the trembling girl. "Fifty points from Gryffindor for utter carelessness, and detention tonight at 8pm sharp."  
  
Miss Granger gasped, her face turning a rather unattractive shade of red as she clenched her mouth tightly closed around the protest she so obviously wanted to utter. He ignored the glares of her friends as he cautiously crept out from under the table, carefully avoiding the potion remnants dripping off the sides.  
  
"Everyone, carefully turn off your cauldrons. *DON'T* touch any of the potion splatters. Then, get out!" he snarled. "Miss Granger, you will clean up this mess . . . without magic!"  
  
"We'll stay to help, 'Mione," Harry assured her.  
  
"You will not," Severus snapped. "Ten points from Gryffindor for interfering."  
  
"It's okay, guys. You go ahead. I'll be fine," Granger said, soothing her friends before he could be tempted to take anymore points. They nodded reluctantly, turning to leave quickly.   
  
Severus found himself disappointed. He'd been looking forward to docking them more. The fire pumping through his veins quickly cooling now that the crisis was over. A heavy knocking on the classroom door distracted him and he quickly crossed to it, wrenching the door open. "What?" he demanded sourly, surprised to see Minerva down in the dungeons. Usually only a dire threat to one of her students brought her down.  
  
She took a deep breath, then suddenly shifted her attention over his shoulder momentarily. "Could I speak with you . . . privately for just a moment?" she asked, turning back to meet his eyes.  
  
"I will be *right* back, Miss Granger," he said sharply, "you'd best be finished by the time I return." He then swept past Minerva into the hall, waiting until she cleared the doorway before pulling the door closed. "What is it?" he asked impatiently. He had more important things to deal with than Minerva's perceived ideas of student injustice.  
  
"I just had an . . . interesting conversation with your mother."  
  
**Merlin, no!**  
  
"And?" he prompted, just as impatiently as before. Surely his mother hadn't disregarded his comments.  
  
"She seemed to be of the opinion that I should 'examine my situation and determine whether or not I'm satisfied with it--"  
  
**Oh, Merlin help me, she did.**  
  
"--She seemed to think *we* would be ideally suited."  
  
He groaned.  
  
"Severus, I *have* to ask you to speak with her. She was very . . . insistent that I consider the possibility. Only after I said I would, was she willing to back off."  
  
Feeling utterly humiliated, Severus closed his eyes briefly before speaking. "I apologize for my mother's actions, Minerva," he said carefully, groaning inwardly. He couldn't remember ever having actually apologized to his rival before. "I will most *definitely* speak with her about it."  
  
"Thank you," Minerva replied, nodding once. She turned to leave, but hesitated, her expression turning to one of indecision. "I just want to say this in no way affects the respect I hold for you."  
  
Severus' eyebrow shot up in outright disbelief.  
  
"I'm serious," she insisted. "While I find you utterly barbaric, too often cruel, and without manners to speak of. I *do* respect your abilities." Again she hesitated, then rushed to finish. "And your incredible bravery," she said, completing her turn quickly and striding away before Severus could possibly respond.  
  
"Everyone's gone absolutely barmy!" he breathed incredulously, purposely raising his voice just enough to ensure that his rival professor heard him quite clearly.  
  
She laughed.  
  
He frowned.  
  
  
TBC  
Kiristeen  
Feedback, I live for it. Feed me please. : )  
Kiristeen@kiristeen.com  
  
  
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	7. Chapter Six

WordESmith -- Thanks muchly. : ) Yes, agreed completely. You know what they say about self-fulfilling prophecies, don't you? The questions remains, is this one?  
Strick -- Thanks!  
Ezmerelda -- LOLOLOL appropriate or not, I find I have to agree with you. ::smirks:: Yes, you're right. Not to Hermione specifically, but rather her intent is to drive him to accept when she finally *does* suggest someone 'acceptable'. : )~  
  
  
**********  
Chapter Six  
**********  
  
  
Sybil's chest was tight, painfully so. She was running out of time to avoid disaster and she well knew it. She still couldn't believe Albus hadn't taken her warning more seriously. He knew she'd seen it, and that it was as real as the tea she'd just shared with the doddering old man. Unfortunately, Severus Snape was still here, still teaching, and it was blatantly obvious that as Headmaster, Albus had no intention of kicking the pervert out. It certainly put her in an awfully difficult position.  
  
Now, she was left with actually *considering* Serapha Snape's utterly outrageous idea. The bastard's own mother had approached her earlier about a possible marriage alignment between herself and Severus Snape. She had mentally dismissed it out of hand, though she hadn't done so out loud. She'd told the barmy woman that she'd definitely consider 'such a fine catch'. Sybil rolled her eyes; though, she had to admit it was a prime way to make sure he didn't marry the muggle-born student. She had been so sure that Albus would do the right thing. Professors that got involved with students weren't supposed to be allowed to stay. Unfortunately, the trusting fool, had decided a 'talking to' was enough. He had *faith* that his potions professor would do nothing . . . indiscrete until *after* the chit graduated.  
  
She sighed. She couldn't believe she was doing this, despite the fact that it was now her best chance to foil her horrifying vision. It might be her last chance, really, short of disappearing again.  
  
She squared her shoulders, renewing her determination and set off toward the lower levels of the castle. Serapha had given her blessing to see if Severus Snape could be convinced, and now all Sybil had to do was seduce a prickly potion master.  
  
She shuddered. He really wasn't her type. It would be worth it, however, she told herself firmly. She'd be alive.  
  
Making her way toward Severus' classroom, hoping he'd still be there, Sybil absently nodded to the haughty Granger girl in response to the chit's nod, and hasty greeting. She did wonder what the girl was doing in the dungeons at this time of night, though. It worried her. What if--  
  
Ahead of her, Professor Snape emerged from his classroom. **Damn it all!** she thought, refusing to cast a glare back in the direction of the fleeing student. **I'd better make this good,** she thought.  
  
"Severus," she called out, dropping her timber of her voice to a husky purr. She forced her mouth into a small smile, allowing her hips to sway seductively as Severus turned to face her.  
  
"What do you want, *Professor*?" he demanded, eyes narrowing.  
  
"Why, you, of course," Sybil purred, reaching out, letting her palms caress the dark haired man's chest.  
  
For a split moment, Severus gawked at her. It didn't last long. He jerked backward, stiffening. "What in Merlin's name has gotten into you?" he ranted. "First you make that utterly assinine *prediction* about my getting married -- to a *student* no less, and now . . . now you're behaving like a . . . a two knut tart!"  
  
**Two knut tart! How *dare* he?!** Outwardly, Sybil showed no sign of her outrage. She was on a mission, a mission she had to succeed at. "Oh, come now, Severus, surely you're not one of those that say a woman willing to go after what she wants sexually simply *must* be a whore? I'd have thought you a *bit* more progressive than that."  
  
"Of course not!" Severus denied hotly. "But what *other* kind of *woman* would throw herself at a man she *believes* will be getting married soon?" he continued disdainfully, his voice dripping with silky venom.  
  
**Grrrrrrrrr!!!!**  
  
Sybil doubled her efforts. "Don't you see, I mistook the woman in the vision. It was my . . . jealousy that made me tell of it, Severusss," she explained, moving closer, molding her body to his, winding her arms around his neck.  
  
**Damn this man is stiffer than the stone Gargoyles! No wonder he's always so ticked off.**  
  
"Get off me, you imbecilic woman!" Severus shouted, grabbing her wrists and forcibly shoving her away from him. "You are *truly* delusional, if you think I would be willing to marry *you*."   
  
Sybil almost frowned. His voice had hinted at a measure of incredulity that was quite insulting if she allowed herself to really think about it. She wasn't exactly a hideous hag, she well knew that, to be reject so . . . soundly.  
  
"Oh, come now, surely an intelligent man such as yourself isn't going to turn down *this* package?" she asked pointedly, slowly running her hands down her own body in a blatantly sexual manner, emphasising her best features.  
  
"I can and I will!" he huffed indignantly, stepping back further. "Now, leave me the bloody hell alone!"  
  
Inwardly, Sybil seethed. She hadn't expected him to be this hard to convince! Once she'd gotten past her own revulsion, she'd been sure her evident charms would make it a rather simple matter. Oh, sure, she knew the man didn't have the good taste to respect her, but since when did a man need to respect a woman to . . . sample her wares?  
  
"Severus," she tried again, this time planning on pulling out her coup de gras, "don't fight the attraction. It really isn't necessary. After all, even your mother agrees we're a good match. Now tell me, who knows her children better than a loving mother?"  
  
"I'm going to kill her!"  
  
"No you are not," Sybil continued doggedly. **Really! The man was being unbearably unreasonable. She didn't let that deter her, however. She *had* to make this work. "You are going to be the dutiful son and abide by her wishes. She *is* within her rights, you know."  
  
Eyes narrowing, a fire flashing in them that worried Sybil just slightly, Severus stepped forward moving well into her personal space, not stopping until their bodies were *almost* touching. He leaned forward and Sybil crowed as she felt his breath hiss out against her ear.  
  
"Sybil," he whispered, his voice low and silky.  
  
She trembled, the soft, seductive sound sending delicious shocks of heat through her. **Oh! This may be truly worth it after all,** she thought in giddy delight.  
  
"If my choice were between marrying you, or marrying a talentless muggle. . . ." he paused, and Sybil tensed, holding her breath. "I'd choose the muggle," he continued firmly. Pulling back, he turned abruptly, robes billowing out around him as he strode away from her.  
  
"You son of a bitch!" she muttered angrily.  
  
"First thing you got right all night," Severus retorted, his laughter fading as he continued away.  
  
**We'll see about that!** she thought vindictively. No one got away with insulting her like that.  
  
Anger raging through her, Sybil stalked off the opposite direction. Despite everything, she simply *had* to find something that would change the bastard's mind. There was no two ways about it. With his mother here actively pursuing the idea of getting her son married, Sybil's vision was that much closer to being forced into realization. The big question was how? It was obvious that he was letting his opinion of her subject color his judgement of her personally.  
  
She sighed. But how could she go about changing that. She didn't have time to work on him slowly, revealing by small bits at a time that she wasn't the idiot that she portrayed to the world. She was tempted to stomp her feet in frustration. It seemed that no matter which way she turned she was thwarted in her attempts.  
  
She felt the tears coming and could do nothing to stop them. Why? she asked herself. All she was trying to do was save her own life. Surely that wasn't too much to ask. Why couldn't people just *cooperate*?  
  
Lost in her own little world of hurt and confusion, she rounded the corner, only to collide with a very solid roadblock. Both her and the other person rebounded landing ignominiously on the cold, hard floor.  
  
"Watch where--" Draco Malfoy cut himself off hastily, rising quickly to his feet and fastidiously brushing off his robes. "Oh! Professor. My apologies." He reached out a hand, which Trelawney accepted, allowing the boy to pull her to her feet.  
  
As she rose, a new thought blared blindingly through her. **I couldn't possibly,** she thought uneasily. Desperation, however, made her truly consider it. She watched in speculation as the Malfoy child collected his school books and carefully weighed her options. By the time he nodded to her, ready to go on his way, she stopped him, her mind made up.  
  
"Mr. Malfoy."  
  
"Yes, Professor?" he asked politely, stopping and turning back around to face her immediately.  
  
**So respectful,** Sybil thought sourly. **Too damn bad it's all an act.**  
  
"After classes today, please stop by the divination tower. I would like you to send a note to your father for me."  
  
A flicker of distaste crossed his face before it was quickly hidden away.  
  
**Ah, so the precious Malfoy heir doesn't like being treated like message boy.** She almost laughed. **Too damn bad.**  
  
"Certainly, Professor. May I ask why you don't simply send it by your own owl?"  
  
"No, you may not," she snapped. "Just show up."  
  
His features tightening, the boy clenched his jaw but managed to still speak politely. "Yes, Ma'am," he replied with a nod.  
  
Sybil smirked as he walked off, noting with amusement that the boy probably thought she was completely off her nut and was quite obviously doing his best to keep his retreat to a dignified walk. A touch of guilt fluttered inside her as the arrogant boy round the next corner and disappeared from sight, but she squashed it instantly.  
  
This was her life she was trying to save. She had the right to protect herself.  
  
//And what of the people who'll get hurt because of what you're planning?//  
  
**What of it?** she shot back ruthlessly. It was time she grew a backbone and started fighting back with everything she had. And with that she managed to silence her conscience. She'd deal with problems as they arose, not create all new ones ahead of time.  
  
  
TBC  
Kiristeen  
Feedback: Food of the muses and inspirational to boot. : )  
Kiristeen@kiristeen.com  
  
  
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	8. Chapter Seven

  
  
**********  
Chapter Seven  
**********  
  
  
Serapha shuddered as she made her way into the library. She really couldn't recall meeting anyone as . . . *odd* as 'Professor' Trelawney. The woman was utterly certifiable. Sighing as she sank into one of the ornate chairs, Serapha felt the weight of the world on her shoulders, and heartily wished she could laugh about the dreadful woman. She couldn't, however.   
  
It was certainly a calculated risk, tempting fate and all that, to send the very woman portrayed in the vision to her son, but she was counting on her son to dig his heels in simply because she had picked the twit. She *really* couldn't see any way her son would choose her now, nor, for that matter, how he might come to choose her on his own. She simply couldn't imagine a worse match.  
  
**Merlin! That woman is too much.**  
  
Unfortunately, Serapha had never had a false vision, and she was the only one who knew her son was about to make a disastrous mistake, one she simply had to prevent.   
  
Lost in her thoughts, Serapha didn't realize she wasn't alone until a young girl, no, young woman hesitantly approached her. She was quite surprised when she was addressed.  
  
"Are you all right, Ma'am?" the young woman asked.  
  
For the first time that day a real smile found its way to her face. "Yes, child," she replied, "Thank you. I am simply tired."  
  
"You're welcome. I just wanted to make sure. I didn't mean to disturb you."  
  
**So polite,** Serapha thought.  
  
"You didn't, child."  
  
"Good, then," she replied. As she turned to leave, however, she hesitated. "Is there anything I can help you find before I leave? I mean, I don't know if you came here for the quiet, or whether you're having trouble finding something. But if you are, having trouble I mean, I know the library pretty well."  
  
Serapha laughed quietly. It felt good. "Now, before I answer that, I've just got one question for you."  
  
"Okay."  
  
"Did you ask because of curiosity or a genuine desire to help?"  
  
The girl blushed bright red, no polite, attractively pink blushes for this girl. She stammered a moment, then slumped. "A bit of both, I'm afraid."  
  
Serapha laughed fully then, quickly cutting off the sound before she disturbed any students who might actually be studying. "Sit down, child. It's been a long while since anyone has made me laugh like that . . . especially by simply telling me the blunt truth."  
  
Looking at her warily, the girl sat, taking the chair nearest Serapha.  
  
"So," Serapha began, "what's your name and do you enjoy it here at Hogwarts?"  
  
The girl grinned, the slight movement of her lips heavily outweighed by the delighted sparkle in her eyes. "Hermione Granger, Ma'am. And yes, I love it here. There's so much to do, so much to learn." She blushed again, this time it was a fetching pink. "I spend a lot of time in the library reading."  
  
"Please, call me Serapha."  
  
Hermione Granger's smile brightened, lighting her entire face. Serapha blinked as she realized it changed the girl's whole appearance.   
  
"Then, please, call me Hermione."  
  
"Tell me, Hermione, which classes here are your favorites?"  
  
Serapha listened to the girl, who seemed only too delighted to talk about her classes, she rattled on easily about all the subjects she was taking. Moving quickly on to how it was quite difficult to choose a favorite, because they were all special in their own way.  
  
"Though," she said, frowning slightly, "I have to admit that divination is my least favorite. I just don't see the sense of it. So, I dropped it years ago in favor of Arithmancy."  
  
**So, not a seer, then. No shame in that.** She continued listening, but wasn't really paying all that close attention . . . until the girl mentioned potions.  
  
"Potions is in a class by itself, of course, so different from all the other classes. I love it, despite the professor that teaches it."  
  
Serapha had to bite her lip to keep from laughing out loud at the look for chagrined horror that suddenly flit across Hermione's face.  
  
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that about any professor here. He's brilliant, really, just . . . a little hard to get along with."  
  
"Really?" Serapha asked, amused.  
  
Hermione nodded, still looking rather uncomfortable with the subject. "Yes," she said simply.  
  
"So, what about potions intrigues you so," Serapha asked with a slight smirk as she discreetly hesitated before continuing, "in spite of the difficult professor?"  
  
Despite her continued embarrassment, Hermione couldn't hide her enthusiasm. Her entire body came alive as she spoke of her love for the exacting work of brewing potions.  
  
Serapha was truly surprised by it. From what she knew of her son -- she'd certainly heard plenty over the years -- she hadn't thought he'd be capable of instilling that kind of love for his chosen subject in a student.  
  
**Merlin take it!** she thought. **Too bad the chit's a blasted student!** With a purely internal sigh, she acknowledge that but for that one flaw, she would be perfect. She was obviously smart, if Serapha was any judge, and even more importantly, understood 'the mystery of potions'. The girl was probably very good at it, too. She simply couldn't see *anyone* enjoying Severus' class if they weren't -- no matter the circumstances.  
  
"How old are you, Hermione?" she asked abruptly, cutting off the excited flow of words from the girl.  
  
"What? Oh! I'm Eighteen."  
  
**Eighteen?** "Started school a little late, then?"  
  
Hermione shook her head. "Oh, no. I wanted to take *all* the classes my third year, and Professor McGonagall let me use a time turner so I could get to them all. It was an amazing year." She frowned, then her mouth quirked up into a wry grin. "It was exhausting, actually. I haven't done it since."  
  
"I'm surprised that was allowed," Serapha replied, shocked. Time turners weren't something handed out without a *lot* of thought. She had trouble believing any child would be mature enough to handle the responsibility in their seventh year, let alone their *third*.  
  
"I've always been something of a . . . bookworm, you know the type, I'm sure. The 'responsible' one." Hermione dropped her gaze just as she caught her lip between her teeth. "Even so," she continued quietly, "it came with a *very* long lecture, and Professor McGonagall keeping very close tabs on me."  
  
Staring intently at Hermione Granger, wondering how she could get around the obstacle of her being a student, Serapha noticed strike number two -- the patch on the girl's robe.   
  
**A Gryffindor,** she thought with disappointment, not that she actually had a problem with it. She knew Severus would, though, and while Serapha was reasonably certain she could have worked her way past one of those two things, both of them left her in a bit of a bind. No, it just wasn't possible. She supposed she should have realized that at the beginning. It was too much to hope that her dilemma would that easily solved.   
  
On that note, she wished there was time to wait. She almost growled in frustration. Why did her son have to be so . . . difficult to choose for? It was utterly preposterous. That's what it was.  
  
"Why did you ask my age?"  
  
"Curiosity, dear, curiosity," Serapha lied easily, noting with amusement, the doubt clearly written in Hermione's expression.  
  
  
TBC  
Kiristeen  
Feedback pllleeease. : )~  
Kiristeen@kiristeen.com  
  
  
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	9. Chapter Eight

Tegmalm's Owl -- Thank you! : ) Yes, I do write a lot. I have stories in 5 genres (though I'm only still active in BtVS and Harry Potter). I've been writing fanfiction for over seven years now -- just the show I write about changes from time to time.  
  
  
  
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Chapter Eight  
**********  
  
  
Seething in a mixture of rage and humiliation, an increasingly familiar combination in his life, Severus strode past the library entrance.  
  
"How old are you, Hermione?" he heard his mother ask, and stopped dead in the middle of the hallway, only noticing now that it cut off, he'd been hearing the Granger girl's exited chatter.  
  
He groaned. **Circe save him! Surely she wouldn't!** he thought in despair. Despite wanting to be anywhere but right here, Severus stopped, blatantly eavesdropping on his mother's conversation. He had to know what kind of damage control he needed to apply, and what, exactly he would need to admonish his interfering mother for later.  
  
"What? Oh! I'm Eighteen."  
  
**Eighteen?** he thought, surprised, then snorted as he heard Miss Granger's explanation. He should have known. Minerva's pet *would* get whatever she wanted, no matter the possible consequences. He wasn't surprised, however, that he hadn't been informed of it -- even if he really *should* have known one of his students had been using it.  
  
"Why did you ask my age?"  
  
**Yes, Mother, why indeed? And just how are you going to get out of this one?**  
  
"Curiosity, dear, curiosity."  
  
**Right! The annoying chit may be one of my least favorite students, but even *I* don't believe she'll buy that load of bullocks.**  
  
Shaking his head, Severus abruptly strode into the library. It was time to put a halt to this unacceptable conversation, preferably before Miss Granger's curiosity and his mother's sudden decision to forgo every ounce of her sanity combined to create a truly horrific scandal, the likes of which would see him leaving the school never to show his face in public again.  
  
"There you are, Mother," Severus greeted his mother, utterly ignoring Miss Granger. "I've been looking all over for you."  
  
" *Mother*?" Hermione squeaked, making Severus turn toward her. His eyebrow raised, a condescending sneer firmly in place, he watched as the insufferable know-it-all turned a rather alarming shade of red. It bordered on purple, actually. Yes, quite alarming.  
  
"What, Miss Granger?" he drawled. "Did you believe I *hatched* so as not to actually *have* a mother?"  
  
"N-no, of course not, Professor Snape," Miss Granger stammered, hurriedly gathering her books. "I just d-didn't expect to ever meet her," she continued. "It was nice to meet you, Se-- Mrs. Snape. Good Day, Professor."  
  
Severus almost chuckled as the chit practically ran from the library. It was quite amusing really. He hadn't been able to fluster the girl that severely in years.  
  
**Wait, did she just almost call my mother using her first name?**  
  
"That wasn't very nice, Severus, scaring the young lady off like that. Now, it will take me forever to get her to relax again."  
  
He *had* heard right. "Mother, please tell me you *didn't* give that child permission to be overly familiar."  
  
"Okay, I won't tell you."  
  
Severus groaned, dropping into the recently vacated chair. "And other thing. She's a student. Leave her out of your insanity."  
  
"Oh, that's not a worry," his mother replied airily, waving off his concern, "time changes things like that."  
  
"Mother," he said firmly, just barely remembering to keep his voice quiet enough not to carry, "I absolutely will not tolerate--"  
  
"Do calm down, Severus," his mother interrupted, frowning. "I've already decided she won't do, so you do not need to concern yourself about her."  
  
"You did?" he asked, surprised, an emotion that quickly changed to exasperation. "Well, why didn't you say so in the first place?"  
  
"Because you didn't ask, Severus, dear. Instead, you barged in here like a jealous little boy, demanding I pay attention to you instead of someone else."  
  
"I did not, Mother!" Severus hissed angrily. "Would you please stop treating me like I'm some stubborn child? I was *merely* making certain you hadn't lost *complete* control over your sense of propriety."  
  
"I will treat you as I see you acting, Severus," his mother responded firmly, irritating him no end.   
  
Curiosity suddenly getting the better of him, he simply had to ask. "And what kind of standard, may I ask, are you using that utter twits like . . . 'Professor' Trelawney pass and Miss Granger fails?"  
  
"Oh!" his mother exclaimed sitting up straight, "So you think maybe I should take a second look at Miss Granger then?"  
  
"Merlin no!" Severus snapped, wincing as he noticed Madam Pince was now scowling at them. "She is entirely inappropriate . . . for a variety of reasons I will not go into. I'm just trying to figure out why *you* thought so."  
  
"Oh, that," Serapha Snape replied. "Why, she's Gryffindor, of course."  
  
Severus blinked in shock, then reacted . . . without thinking. "Of all the narrow-minded, addle-pated reasoning. . . ." His voice trailed off as he watched his mother's face heat with anger. "Forgive me, Mother. I did not mean to lose my temper with you." He was grateful to watch his mother's ire diminish. He had not been looking forward to an all-out shouting match in the Hogwarts library in full view of several spectators.  
  
"If I didn't know better, Severus Snape," his mother began speculatively, "I'd say you *did* think she was appropriate."  
  
"Don't be ridiculous, Mother," he snapped, this time careful to keep his voice down, and most of his anger hidden. "I have repeatedly told you I have no wish to marry at all. And if I did suddenly develop that hideous wish, I *certainly* would not be looking to my students for a wife."  
  
Severus nearly shuddered. This coming on the heels of his earlier conversation with Albus was more than a little disconcerting. No matter his belief that Trelawney was an utter hoax, the three events combined was enough to give him nightmares. He had enough of those already, thank you very much, he did *not* need any more.  
  
"We have already had this discussion, and if you do not begin legitimately cooperating, I will simply choose, leaving you out of the process entirely. We are understood, yes?"  
  
Closing his eyes in mounting frustration, but reluctantly realizing he was out of choices and time -- his mother did have both tradition and law on her side . . . unfortunately -- he nodded slowly. "Yes, *Mother*, you are very much understood. Now, I will make it perfectly clear that *I* have final say on this. I *refuse* to entertain even the mere *thought* of the simpering *idiots* you've been throwing at me so far. And *no* students. It is against policy and will get me fired."  
  
**And that's not even going into the fact that I find the entire thought revolting in the extreme.**  
  
"Very well, I agree to your terms. I was beginning to look in different areas in any case, realizing the error of my original choices. And in regard to your students, I quite agree. I already told you, she's not appropriate, dear, so I wouldn't worry about her, were I you."  
  
Severus bit his tongue in an effort not to correct his mother's misapprehension. He was not worried about Miss Granger. Miss Granger would take to the suggestion like most cats took to the idea of a *bath*. It was his mother he was worried about. Shaking it all off -- including the fact that somehow or other she'd managed to get him to actually agree to this damn charade -- he stood.  
  
"I must get to class, Mother. I *trust* I have no further need to be concerned about you approaching *students*?"  
  
Serapha laughed. "Of course not; I already said as much. You know, technically, I haven't even approached one, really. Hermione and I were simply having a friendly chat, nothing more."  
  
**Right! And I'm next in line to get Potter's autograph!** he thought as he strode away.  
  
  
***  
  
"Class dismissed," Professor Snape barked. "Make sure you clean up your messes before you go to leave!" So saying, he strode toward his desk and buried himself in paperwork, completely ignoring both the whispers coming from his third year Hufflepuff/Ravenclaw class and the distinct noises of them cleaning their workbenches.  
  
He'd made it through another day without either serious injury to himself or his students, nor without completely losing his mind. His mother's presence here at the school, as well as her agenda had him rattled far more that he really wanted to admit. The conversation in the library had *certainly* not helped. He still couldn't believe he'd given in to her sudden insanity, and he'd been going over that conversation piece by piece all day, trying to figure out just *how* he ended up on the defensive. It was outrageous how his mother could do that to him.  
  
"Professor?"  
  
"What?" he snapped, irritated beyond usual at the interruption. The student fidgeting nervously in front of him winced. **Good,** he thought vindictively.  
  
"I-I'm s-sorry for the b-bother, Sir, but I missed how long you wanted the essay to be."  
  
Severus' eyes narrowed and he rose to tower over the hapless student. "If you cannot pay attention in my class, Mr. Roarke, you will need to do what students with any sort of brains at all do and go to your fellow students for the missed information," he sneered. "I cannot be bothered with imbeciles who do not bother to *pay* *attention*."  
  
Eyes widening, Mr. Roarke nodded shakily, "Yes, Professor," he replied, already running out of the room. Severus smirked as he heard the boy mumbling to himself. 'Stupid, stupid stupid.'  
  
The boy wasn't really all that stupid, Severus knew, he simply had a tendency to let his mind wander, which wasn't something Severus had any tolerance for whatsoever. Inattention while brewing was what led to tragedy. It had killed more students and supposed adults over the centuries than any other single potion related reason.  
  
He shook his head as the classroom door slammed shut, leaving him in blessed solitude. Of course, he couldn't yet head back to his chambers, his official office hours covered the next two hours. He didn't really expect to be interrupted, however. Very few souls over the years had decided their need was great enough to brave coming to him privately.  
  
He smirked; most of them probably believed they wouldn't make it out alive. Of course, there were exceptions to that. Miss Granger being one who had done so several times. She, the nervy chit, however, had not been seeking assistance for something she didn't understand. No, usually when *she* braved his office hours it was to request permission to do outside work.  
  
**Extra credit,** he thought, sneering. He'd never allowed it, not for credit. If his students couldn't pass his class doing the work he assigned, they didn't deserve to pass, period. He *had* reluctantly given permission, twice, for her to work outside class time on projects, however. She always seemed to come up with the ones that couldn't be completed within the amount of time the school allotted each day. He would be very surprised if she didn't come to him this year to get permission for that very thing.  
  
In the past, if he hadn't been interested, despite his desire otherwise, in the outcomes of those projects, he'd have denounced her soundly and told her to pick her projects more wisely, and to keep in mind the amount of time she had a lab available. He didn't allow her to know that, of course. He simply chided her, disparagingly, on having a compulsive *need* to show everyone she was better than they were. He torn between hoping his interest would be less this year so he could soundly turn her down, and hoping she came up with something even more interesting. If nothing else, the second option wouldn't allow for boredom.  
  
He frowned. Why in Merlin's name was he thinking about the chit again? Thanks to his mother, he'd already spent a large portion of his day doing so, and he didn't intend to do for one moment more. Firmly telling his thoughts to leave him the bloody hell alone, Severus picked up his quill and began grading.   
  
He had truly intended that to be the end of it. Unfortunately, his wayward thoughts didn't cooperate and he found himself, yet again, reviewing the library conversation, going over Miss Granger's reactions, his mother's subtle alterations of the truth, and his own confusing thoughts.  
  
This time, he found himself considering her outside her role as a student. What would she be like in five, ten years, when age had mellowed her driving need to prove herself? Aside from her rather atrocious choice in friends, and the incredibly annoying way she had to always be right, there was a lot about the girl that was commendable.  
  
Being strictly objective, he had to admit she was very good at brewing. She could, if she were to choose it as her speciality, likely make the title of Potions Mistress. That wasn't something many people were capable of. It was too demanding a field for most, nor was it flashy enough. Also, remaining completely unbiased, he realized she was highly intelligent, if not brilliant; though, he was reluctant to go that far. Her other professors already thought so; there was no need for him to go overboard as well.  
  
Time would mend the overzealousness of youth, so that, by itself wasn't really a flaw worth considering on the whole. Her being Gryffindor, while a trial during her school years would hardly matter later in life -- well, he acknowledged ruefully -- except for the traits she carried that got her sorted there in the first place. An overdose of bravery, while commendable in theory, wreaked havoc in practice, and usually ended up with dead heroes. And of course, that purity of heart they tended to have, seemed to make most of them come across as overly judgemental.  
  
Severus growled, throwing down his now dry quill in disgust, this time aimed directly at himself. He hadn't managed to mark one paper in the last hour. Instead, he'd spent it wasting his time on thoughts he neither wanted nor cared about. It was getting to be utterly ridiculous. Albus could stuff the remaining 45 minutes of his office hours today, he decided abruptly; he was going to his chambers.  
  
He was just locking up his classroom when the voice of doom sounded -- at least that's what the squeaky child voice behind him sounded like when it hesitantly called to him.  
  
"Professor Snape?"  
  
  
TBC  
Kiristeen  
Feedback is the best, it *motivates* : )~  
Kiristeen@kiristeen.com  
  
  
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	10. Chapter Nine

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Chapter Nine  
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The noise of the children's chatter, the other professors' conversations, and the simple noises of a room full of people eating was beginning to take its toll on Sybil Trelawney. Her nerves already stretched tight with the incredible tension of waiting for a reply to her note, were reaching the breaking point. Of course, she had absolutely no way of knowing how long she would have to wait. She had absolutely no clue how these things worked. She may have to wait *days* before her message could be relayed for all she knew. She hoped not. She wasn't sure she could handle the strain.  
  
"If you will excuse me," she said, feigning over-exaggerated tiredness as she rose from the head table, "I must return to my quarters. The noise tonight is clogging my inner eye more than usual. I feel the need for the peace of my inner sanctum." She ignored the snorts and the derisive comments muttered under the breaths of her colleagues. She was long used to them and no longer felt the need to comment back. Today, however, it did serve as one additional irritant she simply did not need.  
  
"Of course, Sybil, we understand completely," Albus Dumbledore replied politely, smiling as always.  
  
Maintaining the character she had worked so hard to create, Sybil slipped away. As she reached the side door, however, she did wonder why Severus was not at dinner. While it was possible that he was dining privately with his mother -- as far as she knew, the woman was still here -- she hoped not. She couldn't help but hope that, instead, her note just might have already reached the ears of its intended target.  
  
Smiling grimly as that thought rose, she quickened her step, wanting to reach her tower, now more than ever. It was entirely possible there was already an owl there waiting. She tried not to get her hopes up too high, but it was difficult. Each step upward felt like a step toward freedom . . . freedom from fear.  
  
Nothing. Everything was as it should be. No owl pecking at the window, or sitting on the ledge rather, since she'd purposely left it open when she'd gone down to dinner.  
  
She paced. She fretted. She even gave herself a tarot reading, trying to figure out whether her proposition had been, or would be, accepted. It was frustratingly inconclusive. She lie down on the bed, and tried to sleep, but sleep wouldn't come, her mind too active to allow her that luxury. Not even sinking herself into her ritual of tea did much to help . . . other than pass the time.  
  
She jumped up, determined to leave. Perhaps some time spent outside, working off her anxiety would help. Quickly changing into more appropriate clothing, Sybil grabbed her cloak and was about to head down when a hoot startled her. She let out short scream, immediately clamping her trembling hand to her mouth. She *had* to calm down.  
  
The owl just watched her disdainfully with it's wide, staring eyes.  
  
She crossed the room on shaky legs that really didn't want to support her, let alone move, and reached out for the note tied to the owl's leg. Absently handing the owl the first treat she could find -- tea cookies -- she opened the scroll as quickly as she could.  
  
One sentence was all that was on the otherwise blank parchment.  
  
  
  
Your proposal is acceptable.  
  
  
  
A gasp escaped her as profound relief flooded through her body, leaving her weak and unable to stand. Sinking to the floor, the emotional tightrope she'd been walking the entire day rolled out of her in great, wracking sobs. The sounds reverberated off the walls of her tower dominion for what felt, internally, like hours; though, she was reasonably sure she'd managed to get them under control fairly soon.  
  
Tears streaming down her face, Sybil Trelawney was torn between jumping for joy at the news she'd managed to prevent the primary constituent of her vision, and all out terror. She was getting married. She swallowed convulsively. She was going to marry Severus Snape.  
  
"Okay, Sybil Leona Trelawney, you take the bad with the good," she said to the air around her. "At least this time, the good *far* outweighs the bad."  
  
Of course, there was the chance that Severus would still not agree to it, but her optimism about the eventual outcome was such that she didn't give failure another thought. She done far too much of that as it was. As Dumbledore's spy in Voldemort's circle of followers, Severus actually had far less leeway than he would, had he been truly loyal. As it was, he didn't dare object to any . . . 'suggestion' from the Dark Lord too strenuously. It may give rise to suspicions, ones he could effectively counter were he as loyal as he claimed. Those suspicions would, however, uncover his deceptions very quickly. Everyone who knew the truth, knew that.  
  
**  
  
Stumbling back to Hogwarts in the dark, Severus Snape had already run the entire gauntlet of emotions. A measure of fear and uncertainty was something he'd always felt when approaching the Dark Lord -- at least since becoming a spy for Dumbledore. This meeting had far surpassed any that had come before, and he hoped any that would come after.  
  
If he was a suspicious man--  
  
**Oh, wait! I am!**  
  
--he'd be inclined to believe the entire world was suddenly conspiring against him. First his mother decided he needed to get married. Then Sybil came up with that scandalous 'vision' about his marrying a student. Now . . . *NOW* Lord Voldemort had gotten involved in it. Were they all meeting privately somewhere discussing what to do next in their hidden agenda of driving Severus Snape completely around bend?  
  
He snorted. Not even he was quite *that* paranoid. Mad-eye Moody might be, but not him. It was simply a very disturbing chain of events that led him to the corner he was currently boxed into -- one from which there seemed to be no escape.  
  
Lucius had laughed. He was all too well acquainted with Sybil Trelawney, and had found the situation endlessly amusing.   
  
There had been something more . . . secretive than usual to the elder Malfoy tonight, however, and it was something that Severus found highly suspicious. Of course, the fact that the insufferable git had been smirking for most of the evening even *before* Lord Voldemort had made his announcement added to Severus' growing paranoia. He was certain Lucius knew more about *why* Voldemort had made his demand than he let on. Why, was the big question. What did he know? And what, more importantly, did Lord Voldemort stand to gain by this match?  
  
At that point, he'd been more concerned with finding a way out of agreeing to Lord Voldemort's idea. Marriage agreements in the wizarding world were tricky things, once both parties agreed to the match, getting back out of them was damned inconvenient. For one, both parties had to agree. Once in a *very* great while, Severus Snape almost wished he'd been born a muggle. Now was one of those times.  
  
  
  
~~~~~~"I can't," were the words that fell out of his mouth as he stared in utter shock at Lord Voldemort. He winced, his eyes closing behind the mask he wore. Around him, silence reigned supreme. No one dared speak -- not even Lucius Malfoy.   
  
When he opened his eyes Lord Voldemort stood before him, wand pointed at his chest. Severus himself was rendered completely speechless, his mouth sucked as dry as if he'd swallowed a plate of unsweetened lemons. He had never, *ever* said those words to Lord Voldemort before -- and for a very good reason -- most people who did, didn't survive the saying of them.  
  
"And why *not*?" his lord demanded.  
  
Desperately stalling for time, Severus dropped to his knees, prostrating himself before Lord Voldemort, all the while trying to work enough moisture into his mouth to speak. Of course, actually having something to say would certainly help.  
  
"My mother has invoked the traditional rights of Head of Household," he said, starting with the simple truth. He then began layering his first lie above it. "She has already selected my future wife."  
  
Above him, Lord Voldemort snarled angrily. "Who?" he bit out, between obviously clenched teeth -- though Severus didn't dare look up to confirm that image. His only chance of getting out of here alive was to placate the man that held his life in reptilian hands.   
  
**Who?!**  
  
Severus thought frantically. Who could he name. The only person who came immediately to mind was a certain brown haired student who'd held sway over his thoughts most of the day. Saying *that* name, however, would be the instant death of him. She was the well-known 'mudblood' friend of none other than Harry Potter. Trelawney was the one Lord Voldemort wanted him to marry, which meant that -- even if he'd been so inclined previously -- she was to be avoided at all costs. No one here would believe it if he claimed Minerva. There were others he knew, of course, but each of them would be unavailable or unable to for a variety of reasons.  
  
"She has not seen fit to notify me of that, as of yet," he improvised.  
  
//Call a spade a spade! You're lying through your crooked teeth. He's going to know; you know this, right? These lies aren't pretty little things tied up with elements of truth. These are stinking whoppers on the scale of Lucius' lies of Imperius to the Ministry.//  
  
"In her last missive, just before my arrival here, she had only informed me that she had made a choice."~~~~~  
  
  
  
Severus stumbled as he approached the hidden entrance he habitually used, the after-effects of the cruciatus curse making his movements slow and uncoordinated. It had been the longest he'd ever been kept under the curse, and by the end he'd begun to wonder -- with what little thought he could spare to it -- if Lord Voldemort intended to cause his death. In the end, it had been one more clue to add to the growing pile that suggested that Voldemort had stood to gain something rather substantial by the forced marriage -- something his supposed sudden removal from the 'marriage market' had put a kinker in.  
  
Voldemort's parting shot, after his wonderful gift of pain--  
  
//Oh, yes, heavy sarcasm there, Severus.//  
  
--was to offer his most *sincere* congratulations, and suggest, most silkily that he expected to see the banns posted *soon*. He only regretted that due to the . . . tentative nature of Severus' position at Hogwarts that he would be unable to actually attend to witness the binding of one of his most . . . *loyal* servants.  
  
The entire night had been a nightmare from the get go. Heavily laden with innuendo, Severus suspected that if this was not handled with utmost subtlety, his usefulness as a spy would be at an end. Obviously Voldemort was becoming suspicious and tonight's escapade had certainly not helped. He had to speak to the headmaster immediately. He winced at that thought, realizing he had more than one topic he needed to address; though, they were certainly connected. Voldemort's plans, Trelawney's possible -- try probable -- connection to it all, and last but certainly *not* least, he needed a wife, and he needed one immediately.  
  
And no, he never thought he would *ever* think that phrase in any context what-so-ever.  
  
  
On the other side of the castle, in a set of rooms reserved for guests of the school, Serapha Snape woke screaming. Scrambling out of bed, trembling with urgency, she realized she had a lot of work to do tonight. She had run out of time.  
  
  
TBC  
Kiristeen  
Feedback: An inspiration and greatly appreciated.  
Kiristeen@kiristeen.com  
  
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	11. Chapter Ten

My profound apologies for the length of time since my last update. I'll be making a second update a few hours, and then another tomorrow. Hopefully that will help make up for it. : ) I hope you enjoy.  
  
  
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Chapter Ten  
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Severus sat across from the headmaster, weary and feeling more defeated than he had in a very long time. He'd told everything he could, including his suspicions about both Lucius' involvement, and his confusion about how Trelawney could be involved. The problem was, as far as he knew, Trelawney never bloody well left the school. He'd even gone into detail as to why he'd said he didn't know *who* the mythical bride was, having ruled out any of the even half-way believable staff members who'd be willing to . . . make the sacrifice.  
  
From what he could tell, Albus was stumped as well; though, at least he took his worries seriously. He had feared Albus might not, at least the ones in regard to Sybil.  
  
"That woman is a menace, one way or another, Albus. I know *you* trust her, and I *should* be the last person to question your willingness to trust people." Severus snorted. The fact that he was sitting here right now and had, had a job he could be proud of for the last nearly 20 years was testament to Albus Dumbledore's ability to see past the surface, to trust against the evidence. "But she has been a fraud from the beginning. Surely you realize that."  
  
"Actually, Severus," Albus replied. "I know quite the opposite. From the beginning, as you phrased it, her . . . apparent ineptitude has been a cover. She is the one who made the prophecy about Harry, you know. No seer has constant relevant visions about the future -- not about the big things. The fact that Sybil has had two verifiable visions of great relevance to Voldemort is rather significant. Of course, the one she had about you is still subject to verification."  
  
Snape rolled his eyes.  
  
"Yes, I know, you deny even the remotest possibility, but I find this rather amazing set of circumstances coming on the heels of it, most . . . fascinating."  
  
"Albus! You may find it 'fascinating'," Snape sneered angrily, "I, however, find it galling, and utterly horrifying. The question of how I feel seems to be a moot point. If Voldemort finds out I lied to him, my value to the order is finished."  
  
"Yes, yes, there is that. I have to admit, I'm far more concerned with the danger it will place your life in," Albus said firmly, frowning at him sternly. "I find that your 'value' to the order must take second place to those concerns."  
  
Severus' eyes widened. He could not remember a time Albus had been so blunt, nor seemed to actually care about him personally. It made him . . . uncomfortable. He wasn't used to people 'caring'. Caring was dangerous. "Come now, Albus. Be realistic," he said, not quite knowing how to respond to the headmaster's admission.  
  
Albus shook his head sadly, completely ignoring Severus' deflection. "Thankfully, solving one danger, solves the other as well. We simply have to find you a wife . . . quickly."  
  
Severus groaned. That seemed to be the theme of the month -- though, he'd already figured out that much. He shifted uncomfortably before rising to his feet to begin pacing. "That's the biggest obstacle of all. It has to be someone that's believable as my mother's choice for me." He closed his eyes briefly, shuddering. "My . . . tastes don't need to be considered toward that believability, as I told him I hadn't had a hand in the choosing. He, Lord Voldemort, has long known of my estrangement from my family."  
  
"Well," Albus admitted, "that certainly opens the field up a bit, now doesn't it?"  
  
Severus snorted. "Considerably," he replied drily. He could not believe he was in the headmaster's office discussing this utterly ridiculous subject. It was so far beyond the ridiculous, in fact, as to lack an adequate descriptive."  
  
Severus' attention was snapped back to the headmaster when the man head turned sharply toward the door. "What is it?" he demanded, instantly alert.  
  
"A student at my door, a very agitated student."  
  
Severus' eyes narrowed. "How very unusual," he drawled, the sarcasm thick. It wasn't exactly uncommon for the students to come running to this headmaster -- the utter antithesis of headmasters everywhere. Right now, it was simply another inconvenience as far as he was concerned, an interruption that dragged out a conversation he wanted done and over with. "You'll deal with it quickly and send them on their way, right?" he asked, hoping this was this case, despite the fact that he could probably predict Albus' response to that with sickening accuracy.  
  
"Perhaps, Severus, it's possible there's a connection with our current situation, after all," Albus replied absently, already heading for the stairwell.  
  
"Oh, please," Severus protested. "It's mere coincidence, a *happy* happenstance, nothing more."  
  
Albus half-turned back toward him. "I thought you'd realize by now, Severus; I do not believe in coincidence."  
  
Severus shook his head as the headmaster disappeared down the circular stairs, resigning himself to a delay of who knew how long. He revised his opinion of the level of his paranoia as he heard none other than Miss Granger's voice. The world was *definitely* conspiring against him. It was no longer a simple worry; it was now fact.  
  
"You know, Headmaster, how much I believe in divination," Miss Granger said.  
  
"Yes, child, I believe that is, in fact, quite well documented." Severus rolled his eyes to hear the humor so evident in the headmaster's voice. It would figure that the *estimable* Miss Granger would put stock in that bunch of hogwash.  
  
"Up until tonight, I've always considered it to be so much hooey. I've never given Dreaming a second thought as more than our subconscious working out our worries while our conscious mind is at rest."  
  
"Please, Miss Granger," Severus drawled silkily as the two entered the office proper, "do get to the point sometime tonight."  
  
"Professor Snape!" Granger yelped. "I-I didn't know anyone else was here."  
  
"Well, now you do, silly girl, please get on with what you need to relate."  
  
"Severus!" Albus snapped, then turned his attention back to Granger; though Severus noticed the headmaster's eyes remained on him. "So tell me, Miss Granger, what made you think tonight's nightmares were anything more than nightmares and why you believe that Professor Snape is in danger."  
  
**What?** Severus' eyes narrowed, his full attention focusing on the girl, as much as he doubted Trelawney's veracity, he did know that 'occasionally' there was the occasional person who could indeed 'see' things they shouldn't be able to.  
  
Granger dropped her gaze before continuing, speaking, when she did so, toward the floor. "I've asked Harry what his *important* dreams are like, not specifics, just what makes him so absolutely *sure* they're not just nightmares."  
  
"Indeed, Miss Granger," Albus encouraged. "Please continue."  
  
"Well, he told me he couldn't really *say* why he knew, just that he did. He felt differently about them, they seemed more real. He said that wasn't quite an accurate description, but that it was the closest he could come to it."  
  
"And you've had one of these 'different' dreams tonight?" Albus inquired, moving to sit behind his desk and silently offer the girl lemon drop.  
  
Granger nodded slowly, absently taking one of the offered sweets. "Yes. Now I see what he was talking about, why it's so hard to describe the difference. It isn't the dream itself that seems so different, really; it's the way you feel about it. There's a driving sense of *need* to do something about it, that if you don't move quickly enough what you saw will come to pass. And the absolute conviction that what you've seen is real. You can't just ignore it, or pass it off as night terrors."  
  
Just as Severus was about to open his mouth to chide the Granger girl into hurrying the bloody hell up, she snapped her head up to stare at him a second before turning an imploring gaze on the headmaster.  
  
"Please, Sir. I know this is going to sound completely stupid, knowing how Professor Snape feels about Professor Trelawney -- something the entire school knows about--"  
  
Severus felt his heart stop for just the briefest of moments, an undefinable, very physical wave of discomfort flushing across his body, spreading out from his chest. He didn't agree with Albus Dumbledore on the subject of coincidence, but too many of them all in a row was a bit much for even him.  
  
"--I have no idea *why* he might marry her, but if he does, he'll be dead within the month."  
  
Albus turned to him, his expression and voice as bland as Severus had ever heard it. "Coincidence, Severus?"  
  
Eyes narrowed, Severus stared at Miss Granger, willing the silly chit to recant her earlier statement. Almost as if she sensed his eyes on her, she slowly turned to face him. While she flinched as their eyes met, her cheeks staining with the only outward indication of her embarrassment of the topic of conversation, she did *not* do as he wished. After her initial reaction, she squared her shoulders, raised her chin almost imperceptibly and met him head on, locking her stare to his.  
  
After what felt like forever, Severus sighed and turned his attention back to the headmaster. "I give up Albus. You're right. It's too much of a coincidence to actually *be* a coincidence."  
  
"You mean it was actually *possible* you might?" Miss Granger exclaimed, her voice cracking on the word possible.  
  
Severus snorted.  
  
Albus, on the other hand, replied to the nosey chit's question. "While not probable, the possibility exists he might be forced to it."  
  
Eyes widening, she turned to stare at him again. "I wouldn't force that fate on *anyone*!"  
  
Despite knowing what the blasted girl's opinion of him was, despite hardening himself to the facts of his own undesirability over the years, the girl's absolute horror sent a stabbing shaft of pain through his chest. "Oh, of course, marrying the Nasty Potions Professor, a fate worse than death," he snarled before he could censure himself.  
  
Granger blinked in surprise. "No!" she exclaimed, "I meant marrying Professor Trelawney."  
  
Both his and Albus' jaw dropped. Albus laughed.  
  
Miss Granger, on the other hand, turned the same alarming shade of color she had in the library. "I'm sorry, I really shouldn't have said that. I mean, if someone were in love with her," she stammered, her expression clearly stating she could see how anyone could be, "that'd be a different thing all together. It's just--"  
  
"Miss Granger, do stop babbling," Severus snapped.  
  
The girl shut her mouth with an audible snap, her eyes flashing angrily at him.  
  
"It's quite all right, Miss Granger," Albus interjected smoothly. "Being forced to marry anyone is a trial at best, and I'm sure someone as young as yourself would find the very idea horrifying, no matter who the participants."  
  
Granger nodded, suddenly finding her hands *very* interesting, judging by the intense way she stared at them.  
  
Finding her embarrassment amusing despite his present circumstances, it took Severus several moments to notice the speculative gleam in Albus' eyes. **Oh no! He wouldn't!**  
  
"Miss Granger," the headmaster began.  
  
**He would.** "Albus," Severus growled warningly.  
  
"Hush, Severus."  
  
Severus snapped his mouth shut just as audibly as Miss Granger had only moments before, his irritation turning to anger as he noted Miss Granger's oh-so-carefully hidden amusement. Having been rebuked once, and not wishing to be again, he remained silent on the matter. He glared instead.  
  
"You are, of course, aware of Professor Snape's extracurricular activities on my behalf."  
  
"Albus! You're stating the obvious. You and I were both there when she found out. You refused to obliviate her as I recall."  
  
"Yes, Headmaster," Granger replied meekly, apparently completely ignoring Severus' outburst.  
  
He frowned. The girl was too cheeky by far. The day they were discussing wasn't exactly a shining example of his best thinking. So cavalierly exposing his long kept secret had certainly not been his brightest move -- especially with so many witnesses. It *might* have been worth it, had it opened Fudge's eyes, but it hadn't. It had ended up being a worthless gesture worthy of a bloody *Gryffindor*. Thankfully, most of the people who'd been witness to his moment of foolishness had been removed of their memory of it. Unfortunately, that 'most' hadn't included the 'Golden Trio'. No, they maintained their exception to seemingly every rule.  
  
"While I won't go into detail--"  
  
**Too late,** Severus groused silently, hating the way his life was suddenly being exposed to far too much public scrutiny.  
  
"--for reasons better left untouched--"  
  
**Because we don't bloody well know what they are!**  
  
"--Lord Voldemort--"  
  
Miss Granger gasped.  
  
"--virtually ordered--"  
  
"There's no virtually about it, Albus. Despite the delicate phrasing as a request it was an order."  
  
Albus nodded politely, accepting the correction as if it hadn't been an interruption. "--ordered, Professor Snape to marry Professor Trelawney."  
  
"Can he do that?"  
  
Severus snorted. "He can do anything he likes, Miss Granger."  
  
"Oh. But, you can't do it!"  
  
"We are already aware of that fact, Miss Granger," Severus snapped, angry at the girl's presumption. "We knew it, even before your most *timely* warning and unsolicited advice. The fact that Voldemort wants me to do it is reason enough by itself not to."  
  
"Yes, I suppose it would be," Miss Granger murmured.  
  
**She supposes?! Of all the bloody--**  
  
"How are you going to get out of it?" Miss Granger asked pointedly. "I mean, from what I've read, if you agreed, even if--"  
  
"Despite your obviously low opinion of my knowledge, *Miss* *Granger*, I am well aware of the magical traps inherent in an agreement to marry. In point of fact, I told him I couldn't do it." Severus clamped his mouth shut after that, not entirely believing he'd actually *explained* himself to a student.  
  
Miss Granger's eyes widening fully as she stared at him. "I'll bet that didn't go over well."  
  
Despite himself, and the overly obvious nature of Miss Granger's quiet statement, Severus could not stop the laugh that erupted from him. " *That* has got to be the single most inanely uttered understatement I have ever heard."  
  
Miss Granger blinked at him owlishly, looking at him as if he'd grown a second head or something. "What?" he snapped finally.  
  
"I've never heard you laugh before, Professor," she replied, her voice quiet, with something else in it he'd never heard before. "You have a very nice laugh."  
  
His jaw dropped open for the second time as it became his turn to stare incredulously. That had been the last thing he'd expected her to say . . . *ever*.  
  
"Be that as it may," Albus said suddenly, his eyes twinkling as merrily as Severus had ever seen them. "Professor Snape's ability to continue his service to the order is going to be severely curtailed if he cannot . . . follow through with the claims he made to Voldemort."  
  
**Oh, Merlin help me! I think I've gone from the cauldron to the fire.**  
  
"Given your apparent connection to all this, perhaps your fresh perspective could give us some insight as to what we can do about this situation."   
  
Severus tuned out Albus laying bare his most recent confrontation with Voldemort to a *student*, that particular student no less. It was less painful that way. He closed his eyes as he heard Miss Granger reiterate the very same reasons he had come up with why the female half of the staff would be unacceptable in one way or another. She was even correct as to the reason why Madam Hooch would not be a good choice -- which surprised him completely. It made him wonder just how much the students truly knew about their professors. It wasn't a pleasant speculation. In the end, however, no matter the angle used to arrive, it all came down to believability. None of them were believable choices.  
  
"I'm sorry, Headmaster, I don't know any adult witches outside the school."  
  
Oh, how Severus had longed to hear those three words from that mouth. Unfortunately, he could wish -- however little he might have believed she'd actually be able to help -- she hadn't said them now.  
  
"Well, that's that, then," Severus snapped, angry that his ability to keep tabs on Voldemort was going to be so easily brought to an end, coupled with the fact that Miss Granger was now unnecessarily aware of his . . . predicament, was enough to make his day a complete disaster.  
  
"Does it have to be someone Professor Snape's age?" Miss Granger asked suddenly.  
  
Severus' eyes narrowed suspiciously.  
  
Albus leaned forward intently. "Why do you ask, Miss Granger?"  
  
"I mean, as long as the witch in question is of legal age, does she have to be as old as Professor Snape?"  
  
"No, I do not believe, given the current circumstances she would have to be," Albus replied, much to Severus' dismay. "Do you know of someone appropriate, someone who would not only be willing, but who would be able to carry this off without tipping our hand?"  
  
Severus groaned.  
  
"Well, I don't know about the appropriateness," Miss Granger began hesitantly.  
  
Severus *had* to interrupt, but his protest came to naught in his shock over Miss Granger's next words.  
  
"But, I would."  
  
"What?!" Severus exclaimed.  
  
Albus grinned, and Severus wanted nothing more than to throttle the senile old man. "Would you really," Albus asked benignly.  
  
"You cannot seriously be considering this, Albus!" Severus asked, his voice rising in both volume and pitch. He cleared his throat before continuing. He shouted when he was angry; he did *not* screech. "This is *not* appropriate." He was all set to rant further at the headmaster when something about Miss Granger startled him. She was crying.  
  
**What? Why?**  
  
"Miss Granger?" Albus asked gently.  
  
Miss Granger didn't even acknowledge the headmaster. Instead she looked over at him, making absolutely no attempt to hide the tears that fell silently down her cheeks. "Am I really so hideous a choice that you would rather die?" she asked, her voice nothing more than the faintest of whispers.  
  
  
TBC  
Kiristeen  
Feedback, a gift from the heavens. : )~  
Kiristeen@kiristeen.com  
  
-------------------  
  
AN: just wanted to explain something before I get the "too many seers spoil the plot". No, I've not made Hermione a seer. : )~ Her lack of ability in that area is too well documented for me to do that. LOL I assure you, her 'dream' has another source. Stayed tuned to find out the whys and wherefors.  
  
  
  



	12. Chapter Eleven

**********  
Chapter Eleven  
**********  
  
  
Severus dropped into the chair behind him, thankful it was there because he wasn't entirely certain he could have remained standing even if it hadn't been. Miss Granger's words stabbed through his mind with needle sharp affect, taking on a volume they had not possessed in reality.   
  
//Am I so hideous a choice that you would rather die?//  
  
It had been a *very* long time since he'd felt so ashamed of any outburst he'd made. "Of course not!" he replied sharply, not liking the feeling one little bit. "We already told you, I do not intend to obey Voldemort's order, so do not give your 'dream' another thought," he continued impatiently. **Really! The chit is taking this far too personally.**  
  
//Oh! And you didn't, when you thought she was horrified about you?//  
  
**Sod off!** he told his unwanted thoughts.  
  
Miss Granger jumped to her feet, her eyes flashing angrily as she glared back at him. "That's *not* what I was referring to!" she shouted. "Do you think I'm so stupid that I can't see the danger you're in if V-Voldemort finds out you've lied to him?" The girl's voice was rising, but Severus' surprise at her outburst was such that he could find nothing to say -- which surprised him almost as much as the girl's rather shocking hysterics. "Harry doesn't go to him voluntarily, but he's still forced into protective hiding every year of his life simply because Voldemort wants him dead! I can assure you, I *do* have enough--"  
  
"Miss Granger," Albus interrupted her flow of angry words, "you need to calm yourself down. Arguing will get us nowhere," he advised gently.  
  
Her words cut off immediately and she sat back down abruptly. "I'm sorry I lost my temper, Headmaster. It won't happen again," she said so quietly Severus almost couldn't hear her.  
  
"I'm sure it won't," Albus readily agreed.  
  
Severus almost growled. He wasn't so sure. The chit was an over-emotional *teenager* with a chip on her shoulder the size of the whomping willow tree.  
  
"Albus," Severus said, making sure to keep his own voice level and calm. Shouting never had made an impression on the headmaster. "Surely you see a student is utterly out of the question. It would raise far too many questions of impropriety. Too many people -- including those who have the power to force your hand -- would see nothing more than a professor getting involved with a student. You would be forced to fire me, Albus."  
  
"Not," Albus began speculatively, "if we let it be known that your mother, being the sneaky sort, tricked you into it. Miss Granger is 18 years of age, fully old enough to grant informed consent. All we would have to do, is let it . . . leak that you are . . . furious with your mother's choice and that she neglected to consult you. That *is* why she is here, is it not?"  
  
Unfortunately, for all the embarrassment entailed in Albus' plot, it would work, especially seeing as his mother had threatened exactly that. Severus couldn't argue that specific point logically -- which he'd discovered over the years was the only way to win a debate with the headmaster. He was about to switch tactics, bringing up Voldemort's likely reaction to Miss Granger's muggle-born status, when an outburst from the girl in question stopped him cold.  
  
"Oh. My. God!"  
  
Both he and the headmaster turned to her in surprise.  
  
"You've had an epiphany, Miss Granger?" the headmaster asked, his amusement lacing his careful words.  
  
Miss Granger nodded, her eyes once again wide. "That's why she asked me how old I was!"  
  
"Who, Miss Granger?"  
  
"Professor Snape's mother, Sir. We were talking in the library earlier today. Until Professor Snape came up, I didn't even know who she was."  
  
The headmaster rose slowly, leaning over his desk, his eyes betraying an intensity Severus had seldom seen in the man. "Did anyone see or hear your conversation with her?"  
  
"I-I don't know, Sir. There were several people there."  
  
"I heard my mother question Miss Granger's age from the hallway. Whoever was in the library at the time could have *easily* heard most, if not all, of their conversation."  
  
"Oh, dear!" Miss Granger gasped in obvious dismay.  
  
Severus wondered what part of the conversation -- part of what he'd missed, he was sure -- had her upset about the probability of having been overheard.  
  
"Excellent!" Albus exclaimed.  
  
With growing horror, Severus realized he was well and truly stuck. With every angle covered, up to having ample, supposed evidence that this had indeed been planned *before* his unexpected call to Voldemort's side, Miss Granger was the most logical choice. He wanted to throw the biggest tantrum the wizarding world had ever seen, one that would finally and irrevocably convince his mother that he really *was* the rebellious teenager she still saw him as.   
  
He didn't, though. Riling against the unpleasantness that came his way was not his habit. It was a waste of time.  
  
"I think, perhaps we should arrange for Mrs. Snape to brought into this. She will have to . . . cooperate for this to be convincing."  
  
Severus wasn't so sure his mother would cooperate. He could still hear her harping on the fact that as a Gryffindor, Miss Granger was entirely unsuitable. He didn't look forward to her discovery that the girl was *also* a muggle-born. That would most certainly put the tailspin on *this* plan -- at least if they had to have his mother's approval. That did cheer him, somewhat.  
  
"What about the fact that I'm muggleborn, Sir?" Miss Granger asked the headmaster. "Won't that hinder Voldemort's belief, at least? And what about Professor Snape's mother? Will she. . . ?" Miss Granger's voice trailed off, clearly uncertain how to phrase her question politely.  
  
"Voldemort will certainly object, Miss Granger, putting you in a great deal of danger. Since, however, I'm supposed to be blithely unaware of future bride, it will have little affect on how . . . convincing this all is. My mother--"  
  
"Will not consider it a problem," Albus deftly interrupted.  
  
"Excuse me?" Severus asked in shock. "She most certainly will."  
  
"I'm afraid not, Severus. While you and she have been estranged for many years, I have had several delightful opportunities to speak with her. We have discussed a variety of topics -- muggleborn witches and wizards among those topics."  
  
That was . . . surprising, Severus had to admit, and just as difficult to believe. Every witch his mother had thrown at him since the middle of winter break had been pure-blooded. Why was that the case if she didn't care about bloodlines?  
  
//Well, is it just possible, dimwit, that perhaps she believes it's important to *you* . . . considering the choices you've made?//  
  
Point, Severus admitted to himself. It was quite possible that was the reason. Of course, it was rather galling to admit that he didn't know his own mother as well as, apparently, the headmaster did -- someone he hadn't realized until now had even met her. Now, another part of Severus was screaming for his attention, making him review that dreaded conversation yet again, making him revise his assumptions about a *lot* of what his mother had been doing for the last several months. He frowned, the ideas forming now about his mother were . . . disturbing. He *really* didn't like being manipulated.  
  
After the headmaster summoned a house elf to fetch Severus' mother, the conversation continued, evolving the plan down to every last excruciating detail. By the time his mother reached the stone gargoyle, it had been decided that Granger's parents would be called in to assist -- and to protect them from Voldemort's retribution -- due largely to the fact that within the muggle world, Miss Granger had yet to reach her majority, meaning she needed parental permission to legally marry -- at least in the eyes of muggles. And while that *might* be a loophole to deconstruct the magic involved at a later date that Severus wished he could latch onto, it was also a loophole that Voldemort could exploit and damn them all.  
  
Miss Granger's friends, who -- despite Severus' strenuous objections -- would know the full truth, would help to spread the gossip. Beginning with the oddity, from the students point of view, of Mrs. Snape meeting privately with Miss Granger's parents. The "Golden Trio" would pretend to be mystified as to why, discussing the matter where it could be overheard by -- according to Miss Granger -- Gryffindor's biggest gossip, Miss Brown. Only to, later, be absolutely horrified by her parents agreement to engage in a 'barbic tradition of the vilest sort' -- again told to her closest friends, while conveniently located where the estimable Miss Brown could 'inadvertantly' overhear.  
  
The news would be all over the school within the hour.  
  
Giving time for such juicy gossip to be spread far and wide, Severus would then play his part, storming through the castle's hallways 'in a mood'. That certainly wouldn't be difficult. By that time he *would* be in the most vile of moods. He'd never enjoyed having his hand forced, and this was the very worst sort of circumstances to have it forced to. And worse than that, he was a very private man, preferring to keep his life to himself, and this necessity, by its very nature would rip that from him, making the mess that was his life fodder for the gossips and the rumor-mongers.  
  
"Ah, Severus, I do believe your mother has arrived," Albus said out of nowhere, interrupting their final nitpicking. "I'll just go let her in."  
  
"You do that," Severus replied drily, returning his attention to Miss Granger almost immediately. There was something still bothering him about this -- aside from the obvious -- he wasn't entirely certain Miss Granger truly knew what she was getting herself locked into. Oh, yes, he knew she was aware of the very real physical dangers, as well as the virtual social suicide this would be. That was a given. It was too obvious a thing for her to have missed.   
  
"Miss Granger," he said firmly, then paused, not sure how to proceed. His normal manner of dealing with students would not be appropriate here. Getting her 'hackles' up, as it were, would not get him the information he wanted. It would do quite the opposite, in fact, it would make her defensive.  
  
"Yes, Professor?" she prompted after a moment.  
  
He frowned, but atypically ignored her push. "Miss Granger, I realize you suggested at the beginning of this meeting that you were aware of the magical nature of an agreement to marry," he said, lilting the last word so as to suggest a hint of a question.  
  
"Yes, Sir."  
  
**Well, that helped,** he thought sarcastically. **Of all the times for her to learn brevity!** "Do not be insulted if I make sure you *fully* understand what's happening, as I don't have time to ascertain it from you. "The 'agreement to marry', or what you would refer to as the engagement, is actually easy to nullify if *all* parties involved in the decision agree, complicated, by not difficult."  
  
Miss Granger nodded to him, indicating she understood.   
  
He loathed what he was having to say next, but forged ahead anyway. "My mother, as Head of House for the Snape family has the right by law and tradition to dictate when and to whom family members marry."  
  
Granger's eyes widened. She obviously hadn't known that.  
  
"My mother has taken it to mind to take that route with me. It is my belief that if we could end this without actually marrying -- say, for example Voldemort is actually defeated soon enough -- my mother just *might* not agree to the dissolution of the agreement. Do you understand what I'm saying."  
  
"Yes, Sir. Even if we don't *have* to go through with it, your mother may see that it happens anyway."  
  
"Precisely. Since it is bloody obvious there is absolutely no way around this, and to prevent giving her the chance to do just that, I wish for the two of us to form the agreement now before the headmaster returns with her. That way, only *our* agreement is necessary."  
  
The voices of both the headmaster and Mrs. Snape were heard as the two of them approached the office. Both he and Granger stiffened. They didn't have much time before the two reached the office.   
  
Granger nodded quickly. "Yes, Professor, I think that's a good idea."  
  
"Very well. Miss Granger, I agree to marry you," he said in a whisper, not believing for a single moment that he was actually saying those words.  
  
Gulping, Granger exactly copied his wording. She was pale, and from his position so near to her, he could tell she was shaking. "Professor Snape, I agree to marry you."  
  
Even knowing they would be invoking it, Severus was surprised to feel the swirl of magical energy whirl around him. It was . . . unsettling, the feeling utterly unlike when he cast spells using his wand. Shaking off the oddity, he rose as his mother and Albus approached them.  
  
"Mother," he greeted politely, "I apologize for the . . . necessity of you being pulled from bed at this late hour; however, a crisis has risen. Please, sit. It's not a short tale." No, certainly not; it was anything but short. He sincerely doubted any of them would be getting any sleep tonight. He just hoped he wasn't making a fatal mistake in revealing the sordid story at all.  
  
Even as he began his sordid tale, his mind flickering to his potions stores as he mentally calculated whether there was a sufficient supply of pepper upper potion to get all of them through the next day, Severus couldn't help but noticed the most eerily satisfied smirk on his mother's face. In its wake, he felt a certain amount of vindictive glee that he and Miss Granger had stepped up and pre-empted her ability to control the issue at hand.  
  
Oh, yes. He would most definitely enjoy her consternation when she realized what they'd done.  
  
  
  
TBC  
Kiristeen  
Feedback, YUM! : )~  
Kiristeen@kiristeen.com  
  
  
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	13. chapter Twelve

Okay, I really didn't want to add another POV for this story, but this chapter *demanded* to be written from Hermione's POV. ::sighs:: Ah, the life of muse's slave. Anyhoo, I hope you all enjoy it.  
  
  
On to the fic!  
  
  
  
  
**********  
Chapter Twelve  
**********  
  
  
Hermione was nervous, her stomach was tied in the biggest knots she'd ever felt. This was worse even than the time they'd gone after the philosopher's stone. It was ever so much worse than when she'd secretly brewed the polyjuice potion -- that time, even knowing the risks of getting caught, and what they were going to do with it, she'd had fun. That had outweighed the concern of getting caught. That and all of that had been done in secret, no one was supposed to know about those things. This . . . *this* would be done out in front of *everyone*.  
  
She groaned as the light from the dorm window landed squarely across her closed eyes, bringing her further into unwanted wakefulness. She slowly opened her eyes, shading them from the evil, awful sunlight, and glanced quickly at the bedside clock.  
  
She sat bolt-upright in bed, a surge of adrenaline pumping through her. If she didn't hurry, she was going to be late for breakfast. Today, of all days, that would not be a good idea; people might wonder why. She launched herself out of bed. Ignoring the fact that on less than 3 hours sleep she certainly wasn't going to be at her best today, Hermione was ready to leave her room in record time.  
  
She paused at the door, taking a deep, calming breath. It didn't help much, but it was certainly better than flying out of her room as if the hounds of hell were chasing her. She had yet to inform Harry and Ron as to what was going on, and that conversation worried her more than just about the rest of it combined.  
  
**Oh, God, how am I going to tell them?** she thought frantically as she opened the door and stepped out. They were going to freak, she knew. Squaring her shoulders she hurried to meet them, wondering where they could go to make sure they wouldn't be overheard while she told them the truth. Thanking every diety she'd ever read about that she *could* tell them the truth. She really didn't think she could make it through this while keeping it secret from them. She froze for a split second when she first saw them waiting in the common room.  
  
**I'm engaged to Professor Snape!** she thought suddenly, the very idea finally hitting her all at once. The edges of her vision greyed and she swayed. She gulped, bending over slightly. **Oh, please don't pass out. Please, don't pass out!** As the grey receded, she began berating herself. Running around like a madwoman after not *nearly* enough sleep was not the smartest thing she'd ever done.  
  
Her near-faint had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that she was engaged to marry Professor *Snape*. Nothing . At . All.  
  
**  
  
Sitting at the Gryffindor table, Hermione played with her food more than she actually ate it, pushing it around her plate listlessly. She had more on her mind than filling her stomach as she had yet to figure out how she was going to broach the delicate subject she needed to with Harry and Ron. She deliberately ignored their concerned looks. She really didn't want to deal with them right now.  
  
Equally, she ignored the raucous noise of the other Gryffindors at the table, all of them seeming to choose today to talk from one end of the table to the other.  
  
"Are you all right, Hermione?" Harry asked finally, putting down his fork and giving her his full attention.  
  
"Yeah," Ron agreed, "don't take this the wrong way, but you look *really* tired."  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes, glaring at Ron. "How could I *possibly* take that the wrong way?" she retorted angrily, then sighed. "Sorry, I just stayed up too late last night -- studying."  
  
Ron shook his head, and for one of the few times ever, straightened to his full height, looking her straight in the eyes. "You really need to take better care of yourself, Hermione," he said. "I know studying is important . . . especially to you, but it's not more important than your health," he finished firmly.  
  
Touched by his obvious concern -- as well as by the fact that he'd finally admitted how important her studies were to her . . . without being facetious -- Hermione smiled. "I will, Ron. I promise."  
  
Harry watched her skeptically, his concern just as obvious as Ron's. It radiated from his eyes, making them seem an even brighter, sharper green than normal. "He's right Hermione, you know. We'd be lost if you got sick."  
  
"I know he is, Harry. And thanks." She hesitated before she continued, taking a deep breath. "Can we talk before first class today? There's . . . something I need to discuss with the two of you. I . . . need your help on something."  
  
Her two friends glanced briefly at each other, their concern rising sharply, she knew, but then they turned back to her, both wearing blinding grins. "Always," they said together.  
  
"All you ever had to do was ask," Harry continued quietly.  
  
Hermione focused her attention on him. "I know." She paused, eyeing him thoughtfully. "It's the same for you, Harry. You know that, right?" She turned to include Ron in her look. "Both of you?"  
  
"The Three Musketeers," Harry said softly and Hermione grinned.  
  
"Exactly," she replied, her mood cheered considerably.  
  
"The three who?" Ron asked, perplexed.  
  
Hermione and Harry both laughed, and hurriedly finished their breakfast as they explained the story of the The Three Musketeers to Ron.  
  
Hermione grinned as she watched Harry pantomime great sword fights, realizing just how lucky she was to have friends like them. It didn't matter that their interests often conflicted, that the two boys were far more interested in quidditch than studying, or that she was just the opposite. That just made it all the more fun.  
  
**  
  
Hermione froze just outside the great hall, her thoughts about where to talk to Harry and Ron stopped cold. There, just inside the main entrance, were both her mother and her father. Even having expected them, it was a shock to see them here, at Hogwarts. Muggles didn't come to Hogwarts. It wasn't done.   
  
**And they're early!** Hermione thought in complete panic. **I haven't let Harry and Ron in on the plan yet!**  
  
Around her, she heard the startled whispers begin, the word muggles repeated over and over as word was passed from student to student. On either side of her, Harry and Ron just stared. Surprisingly, Ron was the first to recover.  
  
"Hermione," he whispered, a shade too loudly in her opinion, "what are your parents doing here?"  
  
She turned beet red as all the other students, the ones already gathered in the hallway and those still filing out of the great hall fell into silence. She could feel each and every one of their eyes boring into her. "I--I don't know, Ron," she replied. Though the words were a lie, she didn't have to feign shock. She really *had* expected a little more time to prepare herself.  
  
She started to move forward when an icy, sneering voice stopped her.  
  
"Well, Granger, has the Head Girl been bad? Is *that* why your -muggle- parents have infected Hogwarts?" Malfoy sneered, smirking at her.  
  
"Are you getting expelled?" asked Goyle excitedly.  
  
Harry and Ron both stiffened, but Hermione responded before they could. "Of course I haven't, *Malfoy*," she replied, slurring his name as if uttering the most vile insult she could come up with. "And no, Goyle, you can stop getting excited. We wouldn't want you to pass out from lack of blood supply to your last brain cell. I'm not getting expelled." Then a truly insidious thought occurred to her. "They're probably here because I'm going to be honored in some way," she continued haughtily, drawing on every ounce of her pride to carry off the tone, lifting her chin smugly.  
  
Malfoy's sneer grew more pronounced and Hermione took it all in, in a kind of bemused silence. Inside, she was a mess, totally unprepared for this supposed-to-planned-out-confrontation this early in the morning.  
  
Harry and Ron snickered, the sound cut short as Professor Snape swept into the hallway scowling, looking as normal as if today weren't so very different from every other day. She envied him that ability. She was utterly certain that every thing that *was* different was written plainly across her face and in her eyes for everyone to see. Absolutely everything was spiralling out of control, and she felt lost and oh so incredibly alone.  
  
She'd felt a bit of it last night as today's plans had grown more and more elaborate, but it was nothing compared to seeing them set into motion. Last night, it had all seemed so academic, unreal, really. Today, it was real. It was happening; and it was happening in front of the entire student body.  
  
"What is everyone milling around for?" Professor Snape barked, his trademark sneer firmly in place. "Don't any of you have classes to attend?"  
  
Everyone jumped, shuffling restlessly, but no one moved off. They were all too curious to allow mere fear to move them away. Hermione wondered idly whether or not actual points being removed would even do it.  
  
" *Muggles* are in the school, Professor," Malfoy volunteered, a vindictive grin appearing as he continued. " *Granger's* parents, Sir," he said, pointing toward the couple standing just inside the entrance, now in quiet discussion with the headmaster.  
  
Professor Snape's nose flared as if he'd suddenly got wind of a stench, and opened his mouth to -- no doubt -- deliver some scathing retort, but thankfully -- in Hermione's opinion -- his mother's approach and greeting, cut him off.  
  
"Good morning, Severus," she said smoothly, gliding up next to him despite the number of students present in the hall. Raising herself up onto her toes, one hand bracing herself on his arm, she bestowed a chaste peck on his cheek.  
  
Hermione noticed several things at once; Malfoy, Harry, and Ron -- all three -- had the exact same expression on their faces. It was quite comical actually, an odd mixture of wide-eyed curiosity about who the woman was, and a disgust that rivaled the one Professor Snape had been wearing upon hearing that Granger's parents were present. Everyone else simply wore looks of bland shock.  
  
She stifled a laugh when Harry leaned in close to her ear and asked, "what's a woman who looks like *that* doing kissing *Snape*?"  
  
"Mother," Snape responded with a slight nod.  
  
Hermione was pleased to see the shock on Malfoy's face . . . that and she had to admit that he looked ridiculous with his mouth agape like that. She didn't turn to see the mirror ones on Harry and Ron's faces. She was sure they looked equally silly, trying to process the *fact* of Snape's mother.  
  
"Oh!" Mrs. Snape exclaimed, looking toward the headmaster -- and *her* parents. "Just the people I wanted to see," she continued, striding off. "I'll see you after dinner, Severus." This was tossed over her shoulder.  
  
Hermione watched Mrs. Snape approach the three by the door, only looking back toward the people around her as they disappeared into the corridor that led to the headmaster's office. Harry and Ron were still staring at the now empty entryway. Malfoy was staring at Snape in undisguised curiosity -- along with what seemed to be half the school. She wasn't sure, but the students seemed torn between which scene to stare at more pointedly -- Mrs. Snape and the headmaster with . . . gasp . . . muggles, or Professor Snape who they'd just seen kissed by his mother like a school boy. Professor Snape, on the other hand wore an expression Hermione had never seen -- confusion. Even as she watched, it turned disgusted, a scowl returning.  
  
"Get to class!" he snapped, then cast one last perplexed glance toward the headmaster's corridor before spinning and striding toward the dungeons -- toward his classroom, Hermione presumed.  
  
It took Harry and Ron both trying to get her attention before she snapped back to what was going on around her. They were the only three left. "Are you all right, Hermione?" Harry asked quietly, half his attention still on the hall that her parents had gone down with the headmaster and Mrs. Snape.  
  
Hermione only nodded, not even sure he saw her response. She was too busy trying to figure out how, exactly, she was supposed to talk to them about what was going on, when no one gave her the time. Thanks to the surprise after-breakfast entertainment, there wasn't time before potions.  
  
Suddenly angry at all adults everywhere, Hermione marched off, leaving two very surprised friends in her wake -- not that she noticed until they quickly caught up with her, each of them grabbing an arm to slow her down.  
  
"Are you *sure* you're all right?" This time it was Ron who asked.   
  
She rounded on him, eyes flashing. It wasn't fair to him, she knew, even as she ranted; this whole situation didn't even involve him yet, but he was convenient, and he'd made the mistake of asking her something she'd already answered. "I *said* I was, didn't I? Do you think I don't know if I'm all right, or not? What do you think I am, some helpless little girl that doesn't know her own mind?" she shouted, wrenching herself from both their grips.  
  
At their twin looks of shock, and quickly shaken heads, Hermione slumped. "Look, I'm sorry. We'll talk after potions, before we go to Herbology, okay?"  
  
They nodded and the three of them quickly headed for potions. That was one class they really didn't dare be late to.  
  
  
TBC  
Kiristeen  
Feedback; I live for it. : )  
Kiristeen@kiristeen.com  
  
  



	14. Chapter Thirteen

The Trio's conversation will take place in the next chapter -- or at least the immediate aftermath of it. No sense going through the whole thing again.  
  
  
~~~ preceeds and follows a flashback.  
  
  
  
**********  
Chapter Thirteen  
**********  
  
  
Snape swept out of his classroom following his 2nd year Hufflepuff/Ravenclaw potions class, feeling on edge and entirely too exposed. He'd purposely been a couple minutes late to each of his classes today, well aware that, unlike usual, allowing time for gossip was the plan of the day. Even knowing it was necessary, it still didn't set well with him. Gossip was the bane of his existence normally, and the thought that his life might actually be dependent on the accuracy of the teenage rumor-mongers at Hogwarts was unsettling at best.  
  
Of course, he wasn't about to let it all happen without some way to keep an eye on things. Potions was a dangerous subject, and his classroom was filled with dangerous substances when not handled properly. Combine that with overly hormonal teenagers with flaring tempers and the ability to cast hexs, one had to stay prepared for anything.  
  
That's what he told himself, anyway, when he set up the spy spell that would allow him to monitor the activity before he arrived. It proved useful several times as he picked up hoped for information that things were going quite according to plan.  
  
It had been Miss Parkinson who had brought up the meeting between his mother and Granger in the library the day before, and despite the overly smug--  
  
**That girl has *nothing* to be smug about!**  
  
--and whiney tone she used, Severus had never been more grateful to the girl.  
  
  
  
~~~~~~ "First, Mrs. Snape talks with *Granger* in the library yesterday," Parkinson said cattily, her expression pure malice, despite the curiosity vivid in her eyes.   
  
**Oh, the nosy chit is *dying* to know what's going on.** Severus smirked to himself as he watched the scene unfold.  
  
"And now--"  
  
"Wait," Malfoy demanded, turning angrily toward Parkinson, "you didn't tell me anything about *that*."  
  
Parkinson turned what Severus could only guess was supposed to be a secretively seductive look -- reminded him more of his Grandmother after she'd eaten a particularly sour apple.   
  
"I don't tell you *everything* I know, Draco," she purred, grinning, even more smug now.   
  
**Too stupid to know what she's doing to herself.**  
  
"That had better change, *Pansy*," Malfoy hissed back, leaning close to the girl's ear -- presumably so no one else could hear his response. It certainly made Severus glad he needn't worry about volume. The exchange, while completely irrelevant to his current situation, was quite funny.  
  
Parkinson reared back, her expression changing rapidly to anger. "Not unless the exchange rate improves, *Draco*."  
  
Suddenly very thankful the sound transfer was one way as he laughed aloud at the startled expression on Draco Malfoy's face in response to Parkinson's ill-thought attempt at barter. Judging by how swiftly it turned to anger, Severus was pretty sure that alliance wouldn't last much longer. Too bad that Malfoy's father expected the two to marry after Hogwarts.  
  
Whether stupidly, or with calculated insult -- not that the latter definitively ruled out the first -- Severus didn't know, but Parkinson ignored Draco's anger to turn toward Granger. "And just *what* did Mrs. Snape want with *you*?" she asked.  
  
Granger bridled, glaring at Parkinson, then smirked. "Something you wouldn't understand Parkinson. We *talked* . . . about mutual interests."  
  
**Mutual interests?!**  
  
"And what could a pureblood *lady* like Mrs. Snape possibly have in common with a *mudblood* like you?" Malfoy retorted incredulously before Parkinson could get one of her own off.  
  
"Maybe she needed someone to clean . . . or something," Bulstrode commented snidely.  
  
The Slytherins all laughed, while both Potter and Weasley bristled -- as did most of the other Gryffindors as well. Severus was interested to note that Weasley look like he was going to pop a blood vessel. He sighed. Perhaps it was time to end this with his arrival. He stopped just as he was about to end the spell when Granger lay a restraining hand on Weasley's arm and *laughed*, rolling her eyes.  
  
"It's not like it's some big secret," she said, sarcasm dripping off her words. "She just asked me what my interests were." She frowned thoughtfully before continuing. "She seemed especially interested in potions," she finished with a shrug, as if she didn't understand it at all.  
  
**Oh, good one,** Severus thought, then blinked. **Okay; that's a thought that will never be vocalized!**  
  
Then Weasley grinned and pseudo whispered, "Maybe that's why Snape likes potions, cuz his mum does."  
  
"What are you insinuating, *Weasel*?" Malfoy snapped, glaring as he stepped closer to the trio's workbench.  
  
Severus wanted to know *that* one as well. If Weasley was suggesting what it sounded like. . . .  
  
"Oh, lay off, Malfoy," Harry chided, smirking. "The only thing he was 'insinuating' was that kids tend to follow in their parents footsteps." His gaze locked on Malfoy's, his expression knowing. "Not unlike certain *people* I could name," he continued suggestively. "You're the one with the filthy mind. Wonder where you got that? Is," Harry paused just the briefest moment and Severus jumped up. "Daddy perhaps a little . . . closer than he should be?"  
  
"Why you filthy little--"  
  
Okay, it was now definitely time to interrupt, preferably *before* wands were drawn and hexs started flying. He quickly ended the spy spell and strode out of his office. The speed with which wands disappeared -- even by the Slytherins -- was gratifying.  
  
"Thirty points from Gryffindor, thanks to misters Potter and Weasley. Wand use in this class should be *strictly* relegated to potion making." None of it showing on the outside, Severus was highly relieved to make it back into the class *before* Draco had gotten as far as actually attacking. Considering the level of Potter's insinuated insult, the resulting fight would have rivalled the worst that had ever occurred at Hogwarts he was sure.~~~~~~  
  
  
  
The two other classes he'd spied on, had not been nearly as . . . explosive, but had been able to let him know that the rumor mill at Hogwarts was still as disgustingly efficient as ever. It didn't seem a single person who entered his class arrived completely unaware of both the scene after breakfast, and of the fact that Granger had been seen speaking civilly . . . and apparently at long length with 'Professor Snape's mother' in the library the day before.  
  
Some of the things said made him wonder just how long the two had already been talking when he'd come upon the two of them. Of course, some of the suggested topics of conversation he dismissed outright as entirely ludicrous, the most believable rumors being that they'd discussed Granger's course work -- potions most specifically -- and how old she was, which, of course sparked all sorts of theories from fairly mundane to downright bizarre.  
  
Surprisingly the right one even came up -- not that anyone believed it. It was, over all, the most laughed over theory put forth. Despite the hilarity, it had come up in every class so far -- with the glaring exception of his 7th year Gryffindor/Slytherin class. Of course, it was usually suggested by the acknowledged clown of each class who did so for precisely the result it got -- laughs.  
  
It wasn't all fun and games, however, Severus had heard more than he had ever wanted know to about what his students thought of him. Several times throughout the day an old adage floated through his mind.  
  
//An eavesdropper never hears good of himself.//  
  
He sighed. It seemed particularly apt in this case. Since it was an image he'd assiduously cultivated, it really shouldn't bother him. He was very surprised to find it did bother him, a little. He didn't quite know what to make of that. He shook his head and, by then having reached his private chambers, carefully took down his wards and entered. He had a free period before lunch, and today he was going to use it for other than grading papers.  
  
He'd found that his tolerance for being the subject of rampant and ribald gossip was even lower than he'd always known and he needed this time to gather his resources. It wouldn't do for him to lose his temper too soon, he had to hold it all in. He had to act as if he didn't notice he was suddenly on display, and was the subject of the worst sort of prurient gossip. The big losing of his feared temper had to wait until *after* the even bigger 'revelation'.   
  
He grinned as he pictured his exit from the headmaster's office. He was really looking forward to letting loose and taking points *without* regard to house. And as much as he could wish that every student that crossed his path for that trip through Hogwart's hallowed halls would be Gryffindors -- he was almost even more hopeful that there would be an equal number of Slytherins. No one could expect him to favor *anyone* then . . . considering. He obviously wouldn't be in his right mind, after all. He smirked. That, and the fact that he was now comfortably ensconced in *private* was almost enough to make him believe he could get through the rest of the day sane.  
  
He had only one remaining problem. He was curious. That in itself wasn't so unusual. The problem was, he was curious about how one Miss Granger was getting on. By now, she had surely told both Potter and Weasley what was happening. Neither of those two could be said to think well of him. He snorted. It was fairly safe to say they both loathed him almost as much as he loathed them. Considering what she was doing for him, however, Severus found he could wish that they would react with understanding.  
  
Shaking his head at his idiotic thoughts, he snorted again. The likelihood of James Potter's son reacting at all well to this was about as likely as Severus Snape getting up and going to dinner dressed in a ballgown -- complete with tiara and makeup. And Weasley, well known in the professor's staffroom for his rather easily roused temper, wasn't any more likely to react well. He supposed, though, that if they behaved as he expected and pulled away from the female member of their trio, it would be all that more convincing to the world at large.  
  
No matter, he told himself. How her *friends* reacted was no concern of his -- as long as the kept their mouths shut about the real timing of the events, which he had his doubts about -- was no business of his. Granger had said she was well aware of what she was letting herself in for. Let her discover the facts of harsh reality and let the chips fall where they may. The scenario laid out didn't require her to act as if she was happy about it. In fact, the worse she looked like she was taking it, the better.  
  
As he rose, intending to make himself presentable for lunch, Severus ignored the tiny voice deep inside that scolded him for his attitude. The Granger girl had not *had* to offer herself, sacrificing any possible kind of social life for the remainder of her time at Hogwarts, but she had. A tiny part of him, the part that not even everything he'd been through could burn away, remembered what it was like to be both a social pariah *and* a teenager that ached for acceptance. If he were being particularly honest with himself. A small part of him still craved acceptance. He just wasn't likely to get it, so he had long since ceased trying for it.  
  
He growled as he slammed open the bathroom door. He had no place in his life for silly sentiment. You lived with the cards dealt you in life and there was no sense wailing on about it. Unfortunately, as he looked himself in the mirror, the silent words rang hollow. He wasn't entirely certain, but he was beginning to suspect he felt sorry for the chit -- which was *really* not a good idea. His fiancee -- He shuddered. -- or not, he could *not* be seen to show sympathy to either a Gryffindor or a muggleborn, and particularly not to a student who happened to be both.  
  
  
TBC  
Kiristeen  
Feedback; I live for it. : )  
Kiristeen@kiristeen.com  
  
  



	15. Chapter Fourteen

  
  
**********  
Chapter Fourteen  
**********  
  
  
Hermione's heart pounded. It was already half-way through the lunch hour, and she'd just finished spilling her story to her two best friends. She hadn't had the courage to look at them the whole time. Amazingly enough, they'd followed her beginning instructions and not said a word the entire time she blurted everything out -- aside from some rather interesting squeaks and assorted groans.  
  
Timidly, she raised her eyes -- wide-eyed shock on two faces, both of them absolutely still, staring at her. Harry's hand was over Ron's mouth, however, the color of the red-headed boy's face almost matching that of his hair. After a moment that seemed to last forever, Ron impatiently shrugged off Harry's hand.  
  
Worry in his eyes, he still took the time to take a deep breath before he spoke. "Do you know what you've done, Hermione?" he asked, far more quietly than Hermione could have reasonably expected. She'd really thought Ron would lose it completely at first. She had counted on needing every spare moment to convince him to calm down enough to cooperate. This was a very pleasant surprise -- either that or he was even more upset than she could imagine.  
  
She nodded. "Yes, I'd already done some reading on it, and then Professor Snape made sure I knew more of the details."  
  
"How could you do it, Hermione?" he asked then, shuddering. "I mean, yeah, he's in danger and all that, but you could end up *really* having to marry him, and then there'd be *NO* way out."  
  
Then came what Hermione had been expecting all along.  
  
"ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?!" he exploded.  
  
She started to retort, hoping she managed to keep her own temper in check, when Harry interrupted with a quiet question.  
  
"There wasn't anyone else that could, was there?"  
  
Distracted from her own retort, she shook her head. "No, not that wouldn't take advantage of the situation *and* could be trusted to keep their mouths shut about how it really came about, *and* would be believable."  
  
"Harry," Ron began angrily, but Harry cut him off.  
  
"He doesn't like me, but he saved my life anyway. How can any one of us do less?" he asked carefully. His expression said clearly he didn't like that it was Hermione that was doing it, but he just as clearly couldn't begrudge her the doing of it.  
  
Ron glared at both of them, threw his arms across his chest, and slumped backward into his chair. It was as close as they were going to get to him admitting that he agreed -- with great reluctance.  
  
Harry shook his head and Hermione grinned. This was going way better than she'd anticipated.   
  
"Is this why your parents are here?"  
  
"Yes, this morning in the front hall was act one," Hermione nodded, then frowned. "I was *supposed* to have time to let you two know about it first, though." Shaking her head over that, she quickly filled them in on the rest of the plan.  
  
"You mean I get to yell, and rant, and generally behave like a prat and *still* be supportive," Ron asked, suddenly grinning.  
  
Hermione couldn't help but snicker. "Yes, Ron. That's *exactly* what this plan means."  
  
"Oh, good. I can handle that. I'm not sure I could act all happy about it."  
  
Harry laughed then.  
  
"Even both me and Professor Snape are supposed to act all pissy about it. Our parents supposedly acted without our consent after all."  
  
"And this is only going on long enough to be convincing, right? If there's anyway out, you're taking it, right?" Ron double checked.  
  
Sighing, Hermione nodded. "That's why Professor Snape and I made the agreement before his mother got to the headmaster's office -- to prevent her from getting any strange ideas."  
  
Harry frowned in confusion, looking from Ron to her. "What do you mean, 'strange ideas'? What's she got to do with it?"  
  
Ron launched into the explanation for her, to Hermione's relief. She was tired of explaining it all, and was glad that at least one of the two boys knew exactly what she'd gotten herself mixed up in. Harry, however, was looking sort of green by the time Ron finished explaining all about Head of Line rights and Marriage Agreements.  
  
"That's positively medieval!" he exclaimed in horror.  
  
"I think that was supposed to be my line," Hermione replied, grinning again. Hey, at this point, she had to take her amusement where she could find it. It was either that or go insane from the fear that was beginning to boil up inside her. **What the hell did I think I was doing!?**  
  
Ron shrugged. "That's just the way it is."  
  
**  
  
As the trio hurriedly approached the Great Hall, hoping to have time to at least eat *something* before heading to class, Professor McGonagall strode toward them, her face as stern and imposing as they'd ever seen it. "Miss Granger," she said as she stopped in front of them. "You need to go directly to the headmaster's office. The password is currently kitkats."  
  
"Is something wrong, Professor?" Hermione instantly asked, absolutely certain her tone was all wrong.  
  
Professor McGonagall's frown deepened as she stared down at Hermione. "You tell me," she replied disapprovingly. "I have yet to be informed as to *what* this is about."  
  
Hermione winced. It was incredibly obvious that their Head of House was *not* happy about being 'out of the loop'. She screwed up her courage, looked her favorite Professor straight in the eyes, and lied through her teeth. "I have no idea, Professor."  
  
McGonagall hmph'd in disbelief, but turned toward Harry and Ron. "You two hurry on to lunch. You don't have much time left."  
  
Giving Hermione sympathetic looks, both boys hurried off. She watched them go with a sigh, wishing she could either go with them, or they with her.  
  
"Well," McGonagall urged firmly, "off with you. Best not to keep the headmaster waiting."  
  
Hermione nodded and complied, heading quickly toward hall containing the gargoyle guarded entrance. Unfortunately, it didn't take her long to reach it at all.  
  
"Kitkats," she murmured, stepping forward as soon as the spiral staircase began moving upward.   
  
Silence greeted her as she reached the office. That, however, lasted only a moment. As soon as she stepped into view, both her parents jumped up and rushed toward her.   
  
"Hermione!" her mother exclaimed, pulling her instantly into a hug. Pulling back just enough to look at her, Hermione's mother frowned. "Are you sure about this?" she asked as almost at the same moment her father spoke.  
  
"I'm not sure we should allow this," he said stiffly. "I really don't like it one bit."  
  
Hermione sighed. "Yes, Mother, I'm sure. I know what I'm getting myself into."  
  
Her mother hesitated, staring at her measuringly for a very long time before nodding once and moving back.  
  
Hermione turned to her father, ignoring the others present, the headmaster, Mrs. Snape, and Professor Snape -- who surprising was keeping very quiet. "Dad, this is something I have to do. I'm sure it's been explained?"  
  
He nodded with obvious reluctance. "But that doesn't explain why it has to be you, especially with the added magical complications we were told about. It just doesn't seem--"  
  
Hermione ground her teeth together, wishing *fervently* her parents hadn't been told about the magical part of it at all. Their knowledge just added more complications. "Dad, those magical complications you just mentioned?" she asked, continuing without waiting for an answer; though the quiet groan from Professor Snape worried her. "They're already in effect. Professor Snape and I agree to do this last night."  
  
Hermione winced as the office exploded in angry noise. Her dad was *furious*. Her mum wasn't too happy either, actually, which didn't help her calm her dad down. Thankfully, the headmaster managed to pull their attention from Professor Snape, and the volume decreased . . . a little.   
  
Her attention squarely on the debate between her parents and the headmaster, Hermione jumped when Professor Snape suddenly appeared at her side.   
  
"I wasn't actually going to mention that little tidbit to anyone, Miss Granger," he hissed quietly.  
  
She frowned up at him, still paying more attention to her parents than who she was speaking to. "Well, then, you should have remembered to inform me of that fact, shouldn't you have?"  
  
Glaring, his frown deepened. "I am *not* accustomed to explaining my actions to *students* Miss Granger."  
  
"Well, then," she snapped, only just remembering to keep her voice down, "you'd better get used to having your plans upset. I can't do what you want, if you don't tell me what you want."  
  
She almost grinned when he didn't immediately retort, obviously there was nothing he could say to that. To hide her reaction she looked quickly away -- his expression was disconcerting her anyway.  
  
"Um, Professor?" she asked hesitantly, staring across the room.  
  
"What?" he demanded lowly.  
  
"Why is your mother smirking like that?"  
  
Professor Snape's head snapped up and he glared across the room. "I don't know," he replied warily after several seconds.  
  
Hermione glanced up at him in surprise. "That worries me," she whispered.  
  
Blinking as he looked down at her, Professor Snape surprised her with a smirk that wasn't *completely* disdainful. "Welcome to the club," he muttered as he moved away, making a beeline for his mother.  
  
Trying to return her attention to her own parents, Hermione was glad to note that the furor of that conversation seemed to be dying down. She watched as the two of them reluctantly gave in and signed the necessary forms that would make this all as legal in the muggle world as it already was in the wizarding one.  
  
Unfortunately, her ease of mind didn't last long. Her attention caught by Professor Snape's emphatic hand movements across the room, she couldn't help but notice the absolute fury in his expression. She gulped. Harry and Ron had described the Professor in this kind of mood before -- the time they'd crashed into the whomping willow at the beginning of second year -- but she'd never seen it before.  
  
Somehow, she didn't think it boded well. Unfortunately, she was pretty sure, that she and Professor Snape hadn't managed to outsmart Mrs. Snape after all and she found she didn't like that thought, she really, really didn't.  
  
  
TBC  
Kiristeen  
Feedback; it's crackerjacks and an ice cold lemonade on a 100 degree day.  
Kiristeen@kiristeen.com  
  
  



	16. Chapter Fifteen

AN: I'm aware that the age of consent in England -- as well as many other European countries -- is 16 not 18 as it is here in the States. For the purposes of this story, however, I'm assuming they are referring strictly to the ability to give consent sexually. And that 18 years of age is the legal age for the signing of legal, binding contracts -- hence the need for Hermione to be 18 for the marriage agreement. That may or may not be the truth in reality, but hey, this is fiction, right? In reality there are no such things as magically binding marriage agreements. : )~ (At least, not that this author is aware of.) I would love it if someone could *prove* me wrong on that last statement. ::wink::  
  
Completely aside from the part of the contract that appears here, this chapter is a bit tied up in the legalities and magical whyfors of what happened. I could have skipped this, but figured some people might want to know my reasoning for the very first part of this chapter -- and for why Serapha was so smug at the end of last chapter. I hope I chose right.  
  
This chapter isn't as long as it looks, unless you care to read the devilish marriage contract Serapha Snape has roped them into. ::smirks:: If you don't want to read the whole thing, make sure you check out "Provision C". It's the kicker.  
  
  
  
  
**********  
Chapter Fifteen  
**********  
  
  
Serapha sighed as she stepped into her temporary chambers here at Hogwarts. She hadn't originally intended to stay more than one night, but due to current circumstances it looked like she was going to be here a while. Mentally listing all the owling she needed to accomplish for her stay here to remain virtually uninterrupted, Serapha crossed to her desk, the single parchment laying there, drawing her like a moth to a flame.  
  
She grinned as she recalled her son's expression when she'd told him she'd already decided on the match the night before, revealing that it had been a necessary step for her to send the nightmare that had alerted Hermione to his danger. He'd been absolutely *livid* and it had been a sight to see, considering he'd had to restrain himself in the presence of muggles, muggles he had to convince to allow him to become 'engaged' to their daughter.  
  
She hadn't had that much fun in years. Of course, she knew he'd get over it. It was all for his own good, really. The young man was a big pile of guilt and hurt feelings, right alongside great defensive walls that screamed leave me alone in vivid flashing colors. He'd never find someone on his own because of that, and without her help, he'd be stuck either marrying that harridan Trelawney -- the woman really was insane -- or hiding out here in the castle until Voldemort was finally defeated. Neither was an option Serapha Snape was willing to accept. Her son deserved to be happy. Circe knew, the boy had certainly had enough trouble in his life to have earned it several times over -- no matter the mistakes he'd made in his youthful rebellion.  
  
With a shiver, she did have to admit that his . . . mistakes . . . carried a far higher price tag than most, but if the lives he had saved over the past 20 years along with the ones he continued to save, didn't make up for it, then she wasn't a Snape. And by Merlin's beard she was a Snape. Right now, she was far more proud of that name than the one she'd been born with. She and her late husband had a son that anyone in their right mind would be proud of -- prickly spines and all. The only thing that would make it better would be if her husband could be here now to see how well Severus had turned his life around. She was as sure as she was of anything that he too would feel as she did.  
  
Swallowing tears of long-held grief, Serapha smiled sadly at the magical signatures at the bottom of the marriage agreement she had written out last night. When she'd been called to the Headmaster's office, it had borne only hers. They hadn't told her about their attempt to cut her out last night, but she'd known about it as soon as she'd returned to her chambers. The moment they'd spoken the simple ritual words they'd bound themselves to the contract they didn't even realize had already been created.  
  
Even now; though Severus knew of the contract's existence, he did *not* know any of the specifics. Serapha knew her son far better than he thought she did, and had known he would try *exactly* what he had. That's why she'd created the actual contract last night. It was the only way. She knew also that even if push came to shove and he and Hermione had to carry through on the wedding -- due to Voldemort -- he would find any possible loophole to get out of it at a later date. She really didn't think she'd left any . . . not if she'd read Hermione Granger correctly.  
  
Of course, there was the chance she had. She did not know the girl very well, so it was entirely possible. It was the one weakspot in her plan. If she was wrong about Hermione, then it would be possible for them to get out of the contract -- after they were married. They needed her permission to get out of the agreement, but not the marriage.  
  
She read the words one more time before taking it to Albus' office to be signed by Mr. and Mrs. Granger. Their signatures were not magically required as Hermione was of legal wizarding age. **Thank Circe!** No, theirs was required only for tricking -- Serapha growled angrily -- Voldemort.   
  
  
  
I, Serapha Lillian Snape, do hereby assert my right as head of the noble line of the Snape family by creating this marriage contract between one Severus Snape and one Hermione Granger. By the signatures affixed here-on, all parties agree to abide by all parts and provisions contained here-in. Should the signature of one Severus Snape be missing, let mine stand in his stead as head of his family line. If Hermione Granger's signature be missing, let that of her father stand in her stead.  
  
Part 1 -- Agreement to Marry  
  
Provision A -- The wedding shall take place no later than 6 months from the time and date of the binding of this agreement, and shall include all ceremonies and rites traditionally associated with such occasions.  
  
Provision B -- Should the marriage subsequently be dissolved due to default of one or both of the marriage parties, the following rules will apply to the distribution of the assets within the marriage that each party had upon entering this contract.  
  
Subsection 1 -- If the default lies with Hermione Granger, she will be entitled to the assets she brought with her upon entering the marriage plus ten percent of the growth of the shared marital assets from the time and date of said marriage to Severus Snape being entered into. Severus Snape shall retain the remainder.  
  
Subsection 2 -- If the default lies with Severus Snape, he will be entitled to all assets entailed to the Snape family and any monies and incomes required to maintain said entailed properties. Of all monies and properties not entailed to the Snape family, he will be entitled to 10% of the growth in shared marital assets from the time and date of said marriage with Hermione Granger being entered into. Hermione Granger shall retain the remainder.  
  
Subsection 3 -- If both parties are found in default, leading to the dissolving of this union, entitled properties and monies will be retained by the proper respective parties, and non-entailed marital assets will be distributed evenly as adjudicated by an unbiased third party agreed on by both marital parties.  
  
Provision C -- The usual default of adultery by either party is hereby put into abeyance until such time as the marriage is consummated. Prior to consummation, adultery committed by either marital party will not be considered a valid default to the marriage contract. Subsequent to consummation, adultery will be returned as a valid default to this marriage contract. At such time, and in case of actual commitence of this default by either party, all normal conditions apply for the testing of dissolution of the marriage contract.  
  
  
  
Part Two -- Other  
  
Provision A -- Any other agreements, verbal or written, espoused by either marital party are only valid if they do not contradict or attempt to supersede this agreement.  
  
  
  
Serapha looked up from reading and rose quickly, heading out of the privacy of her chambers. She really had delayed too long before returning. The rest was simply legal inheritance jargon in case the two of them got their act together and actually managed to have at least one child together. She knew it would not be soon, if they did manage. She certainly wasn't planning on holding her breath hoping to hold a grandchild a year from now.   
  
She smiled as she approached the Gargoyle. She would give them two years before she began pestering them for children. That should be plenty of time for them to figure out they could be good together if they actually tried. As she rode the stone staircase up, it didn't even occur to her that it might be the case that neither of them wanted children.  
  
As she strode into the office, she headed directly for the front of Albus' desk, smiling at the Grangers. "Before you sign this, I just wanted to reassure you that by doing so, you are not legally obligating your daughter to anything. She has already done so herself, by her own verbal consent to the agreement. Your signatures are necessary only in order to carry out the illusion we've all agreed to stand by in order to better protect my son from Voldemort."  
  
Sighing, Mr. Granger rose, nodding that he understood what she'd said. As soon as he looked at the contract, however, his head snapped back up. "How is my daughter's signature already on a document she has not even seen?" he demanded angrily. "This is obviously a forgery, and I demand to know what kind tom foolery is going on here!"  
  
Serapha sighed, she forgotten she was dealing with muggles, who couldn't be expected to understand all the finer nuances -- at least not with the sink or swim method which they'd been introduced -- of magical bindings. And no, she never thought she'd see the day she forgot the fact that she was dealing directly with muggles. She never had held the deep-seated prejudices of some purebloods, but she'd never had much contact with them either. So far, she liked Mr. and Mrs Granger, both Eva and David were quite charming -- during the moments they weren't feeling in entirely over their heads.  
  
While she obviously hadn't met them under the best of circumstances, and didn't know what they were like normally. She could see with ease that they truly cared about their daughter and were quite protective of her. It reassured her that they would probably, eventually, understand why she'd done what she'd done. As a mother, she'd acted as she'd seen necessary for the protection of her only child -- even if that child wasn't exactly a babe in arms any more.  
  
Several voices were heard after a brief silence, each of them intent on explaining what had happened. They all fell silent just as quickly. Severus impatiently held his hand out for the contract, frowning grimly, as Albus began speaking again, trying to calm David Granger.  
  
Serapha gladly stepped back and let Albus take charge. She was good at planning, not placating. She instead, turned her attention toward the man himself. She had to admit Albus had an odd presence that seemed to cut through the emotional garbage and hit directly on the head of the matter. She just couldn't figure out how he did it, because as far as she'd seen, the man rarely dove directly into *anything*. He had a rather shocking ability to hedge around any given subject, all hints and smoke clouds. The wizard was as slippery as an eel to pin down to something you could actually quote.   
  
In fact, most times she'd spoken in depth with him, she'd had as much fun during the conversations as she'd been disgustedly frustrated by them. Each and every time she'd left with the feeling that she'd been the one to dig out the finer points, only to look back on the conversation later and realize just how skillfully he'd directed the ideas that had flowed. She'd learned long ago to never be surprised to find afterward that he'd orchestrated the whole thing from beginning to end. It was a skill she deeply envied. If she'd had Albus Dumbledore's ability to manipulate and charm with the same breath, this whole thing would have been done as soon as said, and she'd have a daughter-in-law already. That she was sure of.  
  
"So what happened," Albus explained as Serapha finally returned to paying attention, "is that because both Serapha here, *and* Severus -- for rather striking different reasons -- chose the same woman, and because of that, Miss Granger's agreement with Severus, rather than being solely with each other, actually completed the agreement between the three of them."  
  
"So what would have happened," Eva asked quietly, "if Serapha and Severus had chosen differently, each of them choosing someone different than the other had, I mean."  
  
Albus smiled. "Good question, that," replied immediately, reaching for the ever present cloth bag on his desk. "Lemon drop anyone?"  
  
David took one nodding his thanks, while everyone else, with the exception of Eva, rolled their eyes before declining.  
  
"Hopefully I understand what you're wanting to know. If, as an example, Serapha had chosen Miss Granger, and Severus had approached -- hypothetically -- our Professor McGonagall--"  
  
Serapha hid her smirk at Severus' badly hidden shudder.  
  
"--and the two of *them* had reached an agreement, Serapha's magical contract would have null and void, because it only had her intent, while Severus and Minerva would have had a two-sided intent. The contract requires both sides to be in agreement, just as with any muggle legal contract."  
  
"Okay, I get that," David replied, still sounding less than happy, "and that's all well and good. For a minute there it looked like this woman had the right to marry off my daughter without so much as a by your leave."  
  
"Quite the contrary I assure you," Albus assured, still smiling.  
  
For her part, Serapha was surprised at how quiet her son was remaining. By now, he'd had plenty of time to read the contract she'd written, and that he -- all unknowingly -- had bound himself and his fiancee to. She risked a glance toward him.  
  
**Ouch.**  
  
"But what I don't get, is how our Hermione could bind herself to it. She's not old enough to *sign* contracts. She's only 17."  
  
"Actually," Albus contradicted, "that's not technically true." He raised a hand to forestall both Grangers' immediate protests. "Yes, she was born less than 18 years ago -- linear time. She, however, was given the use of a time-turner in her third year which added to the length of time she has actually lived. Of course, this 'extra time' will never be translated to the muggle world, it is accepted as matter of course in the wizarding one, because she really has lived for 18 years. It's simply that 18 years have not gone by since she was born."  
  
Severus rose suddenly, instantly becoming the center of attention. He nodded abruptly. "Mr. and Mrs. Granger, I'm sure Albus and," He threw a glare at her. "my mother can adequately answer your questions. Miss Granger and I need to speak, and both of us need to get to class." He turned toward Albus without waiting for a response, nodded and swept toward the door. "Miss Granger," he called as he passed by her.  
  
She rose slowly, automatically turning to follow.  
  
"Now wait just a minute," David demanded.  
  
"It's all right, Dad. He's right," Hermione offered, managing a half-smile. "I'll see you later . . . after my classes?"  
  
Both her parents nodded uneasily to her and she left quickly, before they could come up with anything to stop her.  
  
  
TBC  
Kiristeen  
(Whew -- this one took some doing to write. I hope it meets with your approval)  
Feedback -- it's the fuel that keeps me going. : )  
Kiristeen@kiristeen.com  
  
  
  



	17. Chapter Sixteen

AN: there's a small part in here that probably isn't very realistic, but I decided to have a little fun. If 90 pound muggle mothers can lift automobiles off their trapped children, then panicked teenage witches can probably do some rather surprising things as well. ::smirks:: Adrenaline -- the wonder power enhancer.  
  
Oh, and Hermione goes a little bonkers in this one. : )~  
  
Review response: I was asked why I don't accept anonymous reviews. In my experience most flamers do so anonymously. While I know that the occassional flame is part and parcel with writing. : )~ You can't please everyone all the time, and everyone is entitled to their opinions. (And no, I don't consider constructive criticism flames.) I do feel, however, that if someone is going to flame, they shouldn't do so while hiding who they are. ::shrugs:: Just my humble opinion. And my way of keeping out the trolls. My apologies if that causes problems for anyone.  
  
Thanks to everyone who has taken the time to review! : ) I really appreciate it.  
  
  
**********  
Chapter Sixteen  
**********  
  
  
"How? Why?"  
  
"Eloquent as ever, I see, Miss Granger," Severus sneered. He didn't even know why he was bothering to talk to the chit. It certainly wasn't going to do any good if all she did was fall apart. Glad as he was to at least be in an empty classroom with the door sealed behind them, he was beginning to wish he'd been willing to hold off on this conversation long enough to have it the assured privacy of his office.  
  
"Oh!" Granger exclaimed, suddenly stomping a foot. "Stuff it!"  
  
"Ten points from Gryffindor for disrespect to a professor," Severus retorted smoothly, glaring. "Losing your temper isn't going to do either of us any good."  
  
Granger glared at him. "Like I care about points when there's *this* to deal with!" she replied angrily, waving the marriage agreement in his face. He grabbed it from her hand as she continued ranting. "How are we going to get out of this, oh, King of Sneaky? You're the one who said 'let's agree before *she* can step in'. What do we do now?"  
  
"Miss Granger!" Severus snapped. "Do calm yourself!"  
  
"Look who's talking!" she snapped back, but far more calmly, and before he could find a suitable retort, her shoulders slumped. "I *liked* her," she said out of the blue.  
  
"My mother?" he asked, incredulous.  
  
Granger nodded. "She seemed so nice in the library."  
  
"Of course she did," he huffed, "she wanted something."  
  
Granger shook her head. "Not at first. She was happy someone had made her laugh."  
  
Completely nonplused, Severus snorted. "You *liked* the fact that she laughed at you?" he asked before his surprise could fade.  
  
"With, not at."  
  
Severus rolled his eyes. "Semantics," he replied, then continued when curiosity got the better of him. "What did she laugh at you about?"  
  
Granger bristled, frowning, then she winced and averted her gaze. "I told her the truth," she muttered under her breath.  
  
**The truth? Must have been some truth!** Severus eyed the Gryffindor, waiting for more information. He was sure to get it, the know-it-all couldn't leave it at that. She'd certainly never been short with words before now. After several minutes of silence he began to suspect he was in error and that she could, indeed, 'leave it at that'. He frowned. Then she sighed, and he smirked.  
  
"I'm afraid I didn't research the various ways out of a marriage, Professor Snape, I wasn't exactly researching them with the intent of getting out of one," Granger said suddenly, her voice quiet, her eyes still averted. "Other than--" She gulped. "Other than Part two Provision C, what *are* the ways out?"  
  
**Well damn!** He had truly been curious about what had transpired between Miss Granger and his mother. Unfortunately, it didn't look like he was going to find out unless he asked outright -- which he was *not* going to do. He sighed, feeling entirely put upon. "Death, Miss Granger, as far as I'm aware."  
  
"Well, that's certainly not an option!"  
  
"Of course not!" he retorted his anger swiftly returning. "I'm well aware of that fact; though, you *do* tempt me."  
  
Miss Granger's eyes widened and she gulped. "In what wa-ay, Professor?"  
  
"To murder you, you stupid child!" he snapped, shocked -- and appalled -- at the rather startling shot of arousal her timid question provoked. He shifted uncomfortably, extremely grateful for the semi-darkness in which they were conversing. This was embarrassing in the extreme. Of course the fact that wizard's robes hid a great deal of sins was rather a comfort as well.  
  
"Oh," she murmured in visible relief -- which unaccountably stung. "Oh God," she groaned. "Are we truly that stuck, Professor? I mean, I can't--" Her words cut off and she blushed furiously. "I can't sleep with you just to get out of this!"  
  
"That isn't exactly in *my* plans either, *Miss* Granger!" he snarled, uncomfortably aware of a swiftly growing part of himself that wasn't *quite* so adverse to the idea as the rest of him -- and *that* didn't even take into account treacherous body parts with minds of their own.  
  
He was suddenly, absolutely appalled as for only the second time ever, he was treated to Miss Granger breaking into tears.  
  
"We-ell, excuse me for trying to help!" she shouted, ignoring the tears that streamed down her cheeks.  
  
"The secondary battle-cry of the *brave* Gryffindors," he lashed out. "It lags behind only "I didn't think."  
  
Granger gasped, outrage flashing in her watery eyes. "How *dare* you!" she hissed, surprising him. She wasn't usually so nervy.  
  
"How dare I," he asked, smirking, thinking to let herself have enough rope to hang. "Oh, I *dare* the truth quite easily."  
  
"Seems to me, *Professor*, you're forgetting one very large truth."  
  
"Oh? And what could *that* possibly be?" he sneered.  
  
"*You* would be even more *stuck* if I hadn't agreed. Where would you be, huh?" she spat. "Oh! Never mind!" she continued, spinning around and striding toward the door.  
  
Shocked and frustrated, angry that he had to admit that she was right, and wanting nothing more than to revert back under the cover of being a Professor instead of a man with a very large problem, Severus called out. "Miss Granger, wait."  
  
Granger stopped, but didn't turn around. "What is it, Professor?" she asked, her voice sounding far more tired than Severus had ever heard it.  
  
"I'm . . . sorry," he said, wondering what the hell he was doing even as he did it. "We both find ourselves in a rather untenable situation, through the very direct fault of my interfering mother. It won't help us one bit if we keep . . . sniping at each other."  
  
"Apology accepted, Professor," Granger replied immediately, turning slowly back around. "I'm sorry, too."  
  
Closing his eyes, and taking a rather less than calming breath, Severus closed the distance between them. "This evening, I will begin researching ways to break this -- barring the chance we may actually convince my mother to be reasonable. For now, however, I believe we both have approximately ten minutes to get to our respective next classes."  
  
"Oh!" Granger squeaked, whirling back around and racing immediately for the door.   
  
Severus barely had time to unward it before she wrenched it open and fairly flew out into the hall. He actually chuckled as he followed -- at a far more dignified pace. After all, class couldn't exactly start without him. Granger was just about to disappear around the next corner when a voice stopped him cold.  
  
"Severus!" Sybil Trelawney called out, sounding far too delighted for his comfort.  
  
Turning toward the horrid woman, Severus felt as though he were facing Voldemort himself. "What do you want, Sybil?"  
  
She grinned up at him as she approached. "We have much to discuss, Severus," she purred, reaching toward him.  
  
Horrified, he grabbed her wrists before her palms connected with his chest. Apparently, she had no sense of privacy, dignity, nor any other adult concern in school full of children -- especially in a school *hall* full of children, half of whom had stopped to stare. The raging snarl he was about to let loose, stuck in his throat as a small form in school robes shot past him pushing Sybil Trelawney out of his grasp.  
  
"BACK OFF, Professor!" Hermione Granger shouted angrily.  
  
**Gods above and demons below!** was Severus' immediate, frantic thought. **The child's gone insane!**  
  
"I may not have chosen this," the insane girl continued, oblivious of her frozen audience -- slack jawed professor and gobsmacked students alike. "I may hate it with every fiber of my being."  
  
**Hey!**  
  
"But until I find away out of it, I'll be damned if I let anyone else paw what's MINE!"  
  
*Groan* **Merlin take it! She's beautiful when she's truly angry!**  
  
"Yours?" Sybil screeched, the two women standing toe to toe, inches apart, each from the other, wild bits of magic whirling around both of them. "You're delusional child!"  
  
"I have a marriage agreement that says otherwise," Hermione taunted, sneering perfectly. "So until your name is the one on the contract," she continued, her voice dropping to a low and deadly hiss. Her audience, as one, subconsciously leaning forward to hear better. "hands off," she finished, shoving the raging and startled Sybil Trelawney backward, who stumbled and fell to the stone floor.  
  
"Miss Granger!" Severus barked, managing to find his voice; though it betrayed far more surprise than it did the anger he'd intended it to.  
  
Granger spun to face him, her hair waving around her face as if she were standing in a strong breeze, her eyes sparking with electric flashes of uncontrolled power. "I will NOT be made a fool of, Professor!"  
  
Gasps sounded from all directions, and seemingly brought the irate girl back to her mind. Her expression one of absolute horror, Hermione's eyes darted from Severus to the growing crowd, then down to Sybil Trelawney. She whimpered, her gaze flying back to Severus. "I'm *so* expelled!" she whined.  
  
"Miss Granger, you--" Severus' words cut off and he blinked in astonishment. Hermione was nowhere to be seen. "Oh hell!" he bellowed, "I hope she didn't bloody well splinch herself."  
  
Stalking forward, unheeding of stunned students, he held himself to his full height and stared down disdainfully at Sybil Trelawney. "I told you that I would rather wed a *muggle* than you, Sybil," he said, grinning maliciously as he continued, his voice raising *just* a touch. "Thanks to my mother's and the Grangers' bloody minded interference, I'm doing the next best thing. Hermione Granger is my fiancee, and I, too, will thank you to keep your unwanted hands to yourself!"  
  
With that, he spun away from the downed woman. Purposely flaring his robes around him, Severus Snape, first class bastard extraordinaire, headed for the headmaster's office at a ground-eating pace. He didn't know how Hermione, a half-trained witch, without *any* training in apparation, had actually managed to apparate from the middle of a school with the strongest anti-apparation wards known to the wizarding world in affect, but the headmaster would have to be alerted.  
  
Severus snorted, despite the seriousness of the situation. **If he doesn't already know,** he thought uncharitably. **Bloody bastard seems to know just about everything *else*.**  
  
  
  
TBC  
Kiristeen  
Feedback; a source of wonder and inspiration royale. : )  
Kiristeen@kiristeen.com  
  
  



	18. Chapter Seventeen

**********  
Chapter Seventeen  
**********  
  
  
Hermione squeaked in shock, quickly double checking her surroundings. **Yep, I'm *really* not in the hallway anymore,** she thought with a slightly hysterical giggle. "How did I do that?" she asked aloud, which of course promptly started a silent argument with herself.  
  
//Apparation, duh!//  
  
Hermione's eyes widened, and she shook her head in denial. "You can't *do* that at Hogwarts," she protested.  
  
//Well, how the bloody else do you explain it?//  
  
She couldn't. She freely admitted that. She didn't know how she'd done what she'd done. Nope, no clue whatsoever! She supposed it didn't really matter. There was bound to be *someone* at Hogwarts who could tell her.  
  
**Oh, God!** "I attacked a Professor!" Hermione groaned, stifling the sound quickly as she finally became aware of the normal noises of people within the library. She sank to the floor, backing herself up into the corner, pulling her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms tightly around her legs. She didn't really care where she was right now, only where she would be very shortly -- on Hogwarts Express headed home. She was sure of it. She groaned again, stifling a sob. Her parents would be *so* disappointed in her.   
  
Even with provocation -- and Hermione could admit, in hindsight, she hadn't been provoked, not really -- attacking a Professor was simply *not* something you did without grave consequences. Professor Snape would have to watch his back constantly if it weren't. She almost giggled at that thought, and she began to wonder if she'd completely lost her mind. Giggling? Now? When her life was falling apart?  
  
She didn't know how long she sat there, ignoring the muted sounds coming from the main section of the library, tears streaming down her face, but she suddenly realized she wasn't alone anymore. She jerked her head up, gasping as she saw Professor Snape looming above her, his expression as stern as she'd ever seen it, arms folded firmly across his chest.  
  
"I don't know how I did it!" she exclaimed, jumping to her feet and hastily wiping the telltale evidence of tears from her face.  
  
Professor Snape snorted. Hermione didn't know whether she had actually amused him, or if he thought she was an idiot, but either way, she wasn't happy with the reaction. She didn't like being laughed at.  
  
"If *I* were you," he snarled, "I'd be far more worried about the punishment for having physically attacked a Professor of Hogwarts."  
  
**Okay, that's it! It's official! He's an overbearing, conceited . . . *git*!** "What do you think the tears were for?" she snapped back, anger overcoming the last bits of fear she had of this man, the dreaded potions Professor. She was expelled anyway, what did she care if she pissed him off royally!   
  
She delighted in the flash of emotion that lit his eyes, the angry stiffening of his posture. She even delighted in the threatening step forward he made in her direction.  
  
He sneered down at her. "You acted without thinking, embarrassing yourself beyond measure," he retorted.  
  
"You are so full of yourself, thinking I'd believe that rot!" she interrupted, her voice rising in volume and pitch. "You thought, bookworm, know-it-all, *Mudblood*, *Granger* was crying in the restricted section of the library because she couldn't figure out how she'd done something she shouldn't have been able to do!" A thrill shot through her as she watched Professor Snape's jaw dropped -- *slightly* -- at her vulgar use of the word mudblood. She felt brave. She felt *powerful*. She'd reached the end of everything and now she had nothing left to lose.  
  
"Miss *Granger*!" Professor Snape snapped, now standing only inches from her, forcing her to crane her neck back in order to meet his look eye to eye -- and look him in the eyes she did. She wasn't about to back down now. "First of all, 50 points from Gryffindor for *daring* to screech in profound disrespect to a Professor. Secondly, 10 points from Gryffindor for use of *that* term. Thirdly, do not *ever* dare to assume you know what I'm thinking. You do not have the insight to do so correctly."  
  
Hermione gaped up at Snape . . . her *fiance*. He was taking *house points*?! Of all the--   
  
"Consider yourself fortunate that I do not assign you detention with Filch for the remained of your school career."  
  
"Oh, get over it, *Professor*," she retorted angrily, her eyes narrowing -- though they threatened to fill with more tears at the less than subtle reminder that she wouldn't be finishing school at all. "I'll be expelled for what I did. Threats of house points and detention aren't exactly going to throw me."  
  
"Typical Gryffindor," he sneered, "not caring about--  
  
"Don't you *dare* bring houses into this!--" Hermione couldn't believe she was trying to talk *over* Professor Snape. It was official. She really *had* lost her mind.  
  
"--anything or *anyone*--  
  
"--We both know this isn't about *houses* or--"  
  
"--beyond their need to act like--"  
  
"--*bravery*. It's about being--"  
  
"--foolhardy *idiots*!"  
  
"made fun of!"  
  
Silence descended rather abruptly and the two of them found themselves blinking at each other in shock. At least Hermione *thought* the expression on Professor Snape's face was shock. She scowled back at him. How *dare* he accuse her of that *rot*! She'd spent most of her years here at school trying to keep Harry and Ron from acting rashly, and now he was--  
  
"Being made fun of?" Snape demanded, interrupting her angry mental tirade. "What the devil are you talking about?"  
  
"Oh, come on, Professor. Don't tell me you don't know exactly what's going to happen as soon as it gets out that not only have we been "roped" into a marriage agreement, but that *Professor* Trelawney tried to seduce you after that."  
  
Encouraged, although she wasn't certain she should be, by Professor Snape's lack of response . . . coupled with an expression that fell short of murderous -- **Stunned?** -- Hermione continued. "I knew from the beginning, Sir, that student reaction to this wasn't *exactly* going to be all positive -- no insult intended --"  
  
"None taken," Professor Snape surprised her by saying, rather absently actually. What surprised her even more was the amused smirk that followed the comment.  
  
"Right. Anyway. I'd expected a fair amount of teasing and taunting. What I didn't count on, was having to also put up with the types of comments that Professor Trelawney's attempt will cause."  
  
"And just what kinds of comments would those be?" Professor Snape drawled, sarcasm once again thick. "I cannot see why anything her actions cause could possibly be considered worse than any other teasing you may receive," he finished, his tone and expression both highly doubtful, his smirk remaining firmly in place.  
  
**Why you *smug* bastard! You'll regret that!** "Fine," Hermione replied sweetly. "Then I suppose you won't mind when I start snogging Ron Weasley at dinner in the Great Hall tonight." Hermione felt *great* satisfaction watching a split second of shock shoot across the professor's face like lightening. "And you, of course, won't mind the comments that *may* provoke."  
  
"Do it," Snape hissed venomously, "and you'll regret you *ever* set foot inside Hogwarts, Miss Granger. Real marriage agreement or not, I will *not* be made a fool of!"  
  
Hermione smiled, the attempt a little sad. "And now we understand one another. I don't enjoy being in that position either, Professor."  
  
Professor Snape simply stared at her for several long moments, long enough that Hermione began to wonder if she had actually rendered the man speechless. It was certainly an enticing thought. Unfortunately, it wasn't meant to be.  
  
"I see your point, Miss Granger," he said stiffly. "We do, indeed, understand each other." He paused, frowning, looking quite torn, equal measures of puzzlement and impatience warring across his features. With a slight huff, he continued, and Hermione's eyes widened disbelievingly.   
  
She couldn't believe what she was hearing! Professor *Snape* had said *that* to Professor Trelawney? Well, come to think of it, she could easily believe he'd said that about the so-called seer, he was definitely mean enough to do it. What was *really* incredible was the fact that, unwanted as it was, he had *defended* his position in their unique 'relationship'. After *that* display, there would be no whispers of, 'Granger can't even keep the man her *parents* caught for her'. Or worse yet, 'Granger can't even keep the greasy potions professor'. Of course, she now, also, wouldn't have to listen to the not-so-subtle innuendo that she must be *incredibly* bad in bed. That would have been the absolute worst. She had *never*, not in her entire life, been so singularly grateful to any one person!  
  
Hermione almost grinned. Reality, however, once again intruded on her brief second of happiness. She sighed instead. "It's probably a moot point anyway. I *did* attack Professor Trelawney, technically unprovoked. There's no way around that."  
  
Professor Snape's expression turned thoughtful and then speculative, stirring incredible curiosity inside Hermione. She was *dying* to know what he was thinking about. She didn't dare ask, remaining silent only by firmly biting her lip. She jumped when he growled . . . *literally* growled.  
  
"There might be," he admitted, sounding like the words had been torn from him most unwillingly.  
  
Intrigued, scared, curious, *terrified*, daring to hope, Hermione clapped, finally grinning. She bounced up just enough to plant a quick kiss on Professor Snape's cheek. "Thank you!" she exclaimed.  
  
Professor Snape's eyes widened, his smirk turning almost instantly to a scowl.   
  
Hermione took a step back in horrified shock. "I shouldn't have done that," she squeaked.  
  
"Follow me," Snape snarled, spinning around and sweeping out of the restricted section.  
  
Hermione quickly followed, blushing, but just as happy that the surly professor hadn't spoken of what she'd just done. She was embarrassed enough that she'd done it in the first place. Being berated about impulsive behavior like an irresponsible first year would have been just too much.  
  
  
TBC  
Kiristeen  
Feedback: it does a writer good. : )~  
Kiristeen@kiristeen.com  
  
  



	19. Chapter Eighteen

Thank you everyone for the reviews and the encouragement. : ) It's muchly appreciated.  
  
  
**********  
Chapter Eighteen  
**********  
  
  
Severus couldn't believe he was doing this, and for a bloody Gryffindor at that. He stared at Albus, daring him to contradict what they both knew was a set of bald-faced lies. Less than three feet from him, the Granger girl sat staring at him, eyes wide with stark disbelief. He almost rolled his eyes, quite grateful there were no witnesses to this. No one would believe he spoke the truth, when the primary participate was sitting there gobsmacked as she listened.  
  
He supposed, for the first time ever, that it was a good thing that the headmaster's belief of his words was not important, just his longstanding tendency to want to bend over backwards to accommodate Gryffindors and their impulsive mistakes. After nearly twenty years of putting up with it, it was about bloody time it worked for him instead of against him. After all, Granger *was* helping him out of a fix, it was only equitable that he return the favor. It was certainly better than 'owing' her.  
  
"Let me get this straight, Severus," Albus replied quietly, that damned twinkle in his eyes working overtime. "It is your . . . considered opinion, that Miss Granger's rather shocking attack of one of our Professors was due to her belief that you were in physical danger from said professor?"  
  
"It does fit the facts, Sir," Severus replied tightly. **Don't play the prat, Albus!** Severus snarled silently. **You know damn well, you want to let her off scott free, don't take the piss out of me first!**  
  
"And Miss Granger, do you, too, maintain that this is why you physically assault Professor Trelawney?"  
  
Severus held back a groan by only the sheerest of margins. **Don't ask her, Albus! Do you *want* this to go balls up? The girl can't lie to save her life!** He didn't dare look at Granger. He knew what he'd see if he did -- wide-eyed, frantic denial trying to present itself as agreement.   
  
"Yes, Headmaster," Granger said softly.  
  
Severus snapped his head around to stare at the chit, incredulous. That had sounded halfway believable!  
  
"Indeed," Albus offered thoughtfully, pausing to stare at both of them, that incredibly annoying, *knowing* look throughout his expression. He rose and cleared his throat. "Considering the evidence recently discovered that said professor might actually *be* a danger -- and *that* Miss Granger stays within this room -- I'm inclined to . . . take this at face value." He then turned a stern visage, all traces of merriment gone, toward Miss Granger. "Do not let *this* happen again," he admonished. "Without more substantial proof, I would be forced to take action."  
  
"No, Sir. Never, Sir!" Granger quickly assured.  
  
"Good then," Albus nodded. "Be gone with both of you. I'll leave it up to the two of you to figure out how you managed to apparate where none should be able to."  
  
Severus did groan then, frowning. That was just what he needed.  
  
"Actually, Sir, I've been thinking about that."  
  
**Do tell,** Severus thought sourly, but remained silent, his only response a roll of his eyes and an exaggerated sigh of impatience.  
  
"Really?" Albus asked, actually looking interested. "Please explain."  
  
Taking a deep breath, and a not so covert peak at *him*, Granger quickly began speaking to the headmaster. "Fear has long been known to do amazing things to people. Fear of specific things, phobias and the like, can make otherwise brave people into veritable cowards. Fear for other people can make cowards do incredibly brave things. It's also been known to allow physically weak muggle women to lift two ton cars off their children or grandchildren. Adrenaline, Sir; it enhances the body, preparing it for fight or flight. It stands to reason that it might also affect magical ability in wizarding folk."  
  
He would never, not even with his dying breath, admit it, but Severus realized it was actually a plausible theory -- barring the possibility that the wards had simply weakened momentarily, which would have to be looked into. He had heard tales of near squib level witches and wizards successfully casting spells in desperate situations that should have been beyond their capability. He'd always scoffed, but now he wasn't so sure. What Granger had done, *should* have been impossible. No wild flare of magic should have enabled a witch untrained in apparation to not only successfully disapparate from within a no apparate zone, but at the same time apparate *to* a no apparate zone. It was unheard of.  
  
Albus nodded, seemingly satisfied with her explanation. "I have already double checked the wards operating around Hogwarts, and given that there is absolutely no sign that they've been weakened or otherwise compromised, it seems to me as logical an explanation as any, and it will go in my reports as such."  
  
Albus reseated himself, and waved them a dismissal. "Keep me informed of anything unusual," he said, immediately turning his attention to one of the many parchments scattered across his desk.  
  
Rolling his eyes at the rather abrupt dismissal, Severus strode out of the headmaster's office. It was only after he was back out in the hallway, outside the stone gargoyle that he realized he'd forgotten to ask the headmaster how taking over his class had gone. He briefly debated returning to do just that, when he was distracted by the fidgeting presence of Miss Granger. He sighed.  
  
"We need to talk," he said abruptly, striding away. "Come with me."  
  
"Yes, Professor," she replied before he heard her scurry after him.  
  
The buzz of milling, gossiping students grew as they approached the main hall. It silenced immediately, the moment they entered. The oh so familiar, and hated, reaction send tendrils of half-forgotten teenage memories creeping through his thoughts as the two of them were stared at, in some cases openly, in others covertly.  
  
"Don't you have anything better to do?" he snarled at the closest student stupid enough to be staring openly. The young Ravenclaw's eyes widened, and with a squeak of horror, and a rather violent shake of his head, scurried off. It set everyone in motion and soon the two of them were alone in the hallway.  
  
They remained silent the rest of the way to his office. Severus couldn't help but revisit Granger's reaction earlier. Glancing at her as he waved her into his office ahead of him, he couldn't help but wonder. He had never really thought much about her, beyond her irritation factor in his classes, but giving it thought now, he realized he would have pegged her as quiet and reserved, mousy really. The old adage, 'it's always the quiet ones' came to mind, which set his mind along another path.   
  
If she reacted that . . . strongly to the situation simply because of embarrassment, how would she react if her . . . affections were engaged? Anger that suddenly aroused, territorial anger at that, spoke of an unsuspected passion buried deep within the studious bookworm. Shock at that thought flushed through him and he shook his head. He should not be thinking such things about a student! It was appalling at best.  
  
//But she's *also* your fiancee.//  
  
Growling to himself, he swept behind his desk, sitting rather abruptly. "Well," he inquired snidely, "are you waiting for an engraved invitation? Sit!"  
  
Granger sat, folding her hands nervously in her lap.  
  
The problem was, now that he had her here, he didn't have a bloody thing to say. That had *never* happened to him before.  
  
"I'm sorry," Granger said suddenly, breaking into the increasingly awkward silence. "If it bothered you, I mean. I'm sorry."  
  
Severus frowned, confused at the apparently random apology. "If *what* bothered me, Miss Granger," he asked rather forcefully.  
  
Granger jumped, raising her head to meet his stare. "For kissing you. If it bothered you, I'm sorry."  
  
Rather stunned that she'd even brought it up, considering how embarrassed she'd seemed by the whole thing. Severus wasn't really sure how he felt about her apologizing for it. "You're sorry you did it?" he demanded snidely. "Kissed the---"  
  
"No!" Granger exclaimed interrupting him.   
  
That was getting to be a habit of hers, one he did *not* appreciate.  
  
"Do *not* interrupt me, Miss Granger!" he snarled.  
  
"I'm sorry," she replied immediately. "But you're wrong. I'm not sorry I did it, I'm just sorry it made you uncomfortable."  
  
Blinking in surprise, he glared at the cheeky chit warily. She wasn't sorry she'd done it? Whyever not? Curiosity had him asking before he managed to censor himself.  
  
**  
  
His mood black, Severus stormed down toward his private chambers. He had never liked feeling confused, and now was no different. He loathed the students and the students loathed him. That's the way it had always been. It was the way it *should* be.  
  
//Why should I be sorry for acting on how I feel?//  
  
Cheeky chit! Who did she think she was? All thoughts of his current predicament were shoved out of his mind the moment his arm began to pulse with burning pain.   
  
"Bloody hell!" he muttered as he swept into his chambers. He couldn't help a shudder of fear as he immediately wondered at the timing of the summons. The agreement binding him and Miss Granger becomes common knowledge at Hogwarts, and not even 6 hours later he was rifling through his closet to dig out his loathed deatheater robes to meet with Voldemort. It just wasn't usual to receive two summons with such a short interval between them.  
  
Changing swiftly, Severus Snape hurriedly wrote out a note to the headmaster. He always did this, in case something went wrong and he didn't return. An icy tendril of fear creeped into his heart as he realized that right now, that 'in case' was quite likely. The two events were simply too close together to be coincidence.  
  
Striding across his chambers to the craftily hidden door that only he and the headmaster knew existed, Severus silently slipped into his tunnel. It lead directly out of the castle, allowing him unseen exit and entrance. He stopped only long enough to tie the note to the owl kept here for just this purpose.  
  
"Take this to the headmaster," he said quietly, "then you're free to hunt."  
  
The owl's head bobbed once and with a low hoot it was gone. He didn't stick around to watch it fly off. He, unfortunately, had a meeting to attend, one he needed to get to quickly. The longer he kept the dark lord waiting, the worse the meeting would be, he was certain. It always was.  
  
  
TBC  
Kiristeen  
Feedback: It'll make my day. : )  
Kiristeen@kiristeen.com  
  



	20. Chapter Nineteen

AN: Things are beginning to come to a head now, so this chapter has several scene changes, each scene having a different POV.  
  
  
  
**********  
Chapter Nineteen  
**********  
  
  
Minerva strode into his office, her face set in stern, unhappy lines.  
  
Albus rose as she approached, his customary jovial expression all but gone. "Did you locate Sybil?"  
  
"No," Minerva replied shortly. "She's not in the castle, Albus. What is this about?"  
  
"Very bad things, Minerva, very bad things."  
  
Sinking into the chair across the desk from him, Minerva's eyes narrowed. "Perhaps you should fill me in?" she replied softly. "Are the children in danger? Is Sybil?"  
  
**  
  
Hermione wandered slowly back to Gryffindor tower. She was . . . confused. The meeting in Professor Snape's office had not gone like she'd expected at all. In fact, he too seemed bewildered by what all had happened. Of course, she couldn't be certain; she had never really understood the taciturn Professor.  
  
He certainly hadn't seemed angry at her presumption, and the kiss to his cheek in the library had been just that, she knew very well. Quite the opposite, or so it seemed to her. He seemed uncertain what to make of it. Surprisingly, Hermione had come away from the awkward meeting seeing Professor Snape as someone more than the 'greasy potions professor', more than someone to be feared. His very uncertainty made him seem far more human than she'd ever considered before, and for the first time, Hermione was realizing that he wasn't simply the bitter potions professor they had all come to hate. No, he was much more than that. He was also a man, one with hidden feelings just like the rest of them. It was an unsettling realization.  
  
Hermione shook her head, snorting as she approached the Gryffindor common room entrance.   
  
"Bouncing ferret," she murmured and the portrait swung open.  
  
It wasn't like she'd thought he was some kind of non-human before now, just that she had never really thought about it at all. He'd been someone to avoid when she could, endure when she couldn't.  
  
"Are you alright, dear?" the fat lady asked gently.  
  
The more she thought about it, the more she realized that she over looked a lot of things consciously, but certainly hadn't seemed to miss them subconsciously. She knew he was an intelligent man, despite his obvious prejudices, his skill with potions was evidence enough of that. She could even think back to demonstrations he'd given, and watching his hands as he worked; long, slender fingers, confidently, gracefully performing the precise--  
  
"What? Oh, yes. I'm fine. Just tired."  
  
A suspicious, "hmmm," was the only response as Hermione disappeared into the Gryffindor common room.  
  
She didn't have time to analyze her thoughts once safely inside, however. Her two best friends descended on her instantly.  
  
"Hermione!" Harry and Ron exclaimed, nearly the instant they saw her.  
  
"Where have you been?" Ron asked, worried.  
  
"Are you all right?" Harry asked, equally concerned.  
  
Hermione jumped, blinking in surprise at the sudden questions. "With the headmaster and then with Professor Snape," she replied to Ron. "And yes, I'm fine, confused, but fine."  
  
"We heard about what happened earlier and we've been going out of our minds since!" Ron said, his words sounding frantic.  
  
"We looked, but we couldn't find you anywhere."  
  
**  
  
Severus shuddered. He absolutely loathed answering summons -- for more than the obvious reasons. It required blind apparating and that was something he could do without at the best of times. It left him feeling vaguely disoriented, which was never a good thing when dealing with the dark lord.  
  
It was dark around him, heavily forested, so even the night's moonlight wasn't reaching him.  
  
"Lumos," he whispered, absurdly grateful for the tiny light that spell provided from the tip of his wand. Directly in front of him, a path led deeper into the trees. He snorted, rather obvious . . . if not ominous, he thought sourly. Before taking that 'obvious' route, however, he slowly turned a full circle, deliberately memorizing the details of his current location.   
  
The clearing was blatantly bare, surrounded on all sides, but one, with trees and heavy foliage. "That answers that question," he muttered, striding forward and onto the path. A mere 50 metres later, Severus stepped off the well-worn path and into a larger, but otherwise identical clearing. This one, however, was not unoccupied.   
  
Three people, gazes all locked on him, waited. Only one was seated. Lord Voldemort. The presence that surprised him was not Lord Voldemort, nor was it Lucius Malfoy; it was Sybil Trelawney.  
  
**Stupid bat!** he thought viciously. **She's signed her own death warrant showing up here before the deal is done.**  
  
Without visible hesitation, Severus strode directly toward the seated dark lord and made his obeisance, bowing low. "My Lord," he said clearly, infusing his words with as much reverence as he was capable, his mind whirling, trying to figure out what, exactly, Sybil Trelawney thought to gain by all this.  
  
"Severus," the dark lord replied, "rise."  
  
He did so with growing trepidation, the sadistic smirk on Malfoy's face, the smug expression on Sybil's, and the angry one on Lord Voldemort's all combined to leave him with a very bad feeling, and a very sour taste in his mouth.  
  
"I am at your service, My Lord," he said softly, outwardly betraying none of his concerns. He looked neither right, nor left, apparently paying no attention to anyone present except the dark lord.  
  
"Why do I grow to doubt that?" Voldemort asked, his words a hiss of anger.  
  
"I would not presume to guess as to your--"  
  
"Crucio!"  
  
Severus gasped as the spell hit, crouching over as the instant ravaging pain coursed through his body. It was unendurable, no matter how many times he suffered through it. Thankfully, it didn't last long, allowing him the dignity of remaining on his feet, and relatively silent.  
  
"I find I tire of your polite but meaningless phrases, Severus. They tell me nothing."  
  
"Forgive me, My Lord," Severus ground out through clenched teeth.   
  
"No, I do not think I will," Voldemort replied.  
  
**So this is it, then,** Severus thought. **I'm dead.** Steeling himself for the inevitable, he realized he wondered who, if anyone would mourn his passing. **Albus will,** he thought, though some small part of him couldn't be sure of even that, despite the headmaster's words of reassurance. He surprised himself by wondering if Granger would, considering her rather shocking vehemence both in the headmaster's office and in the hallway of Hogwarts a mere 7 hours ago. He shook himself, jerking his attention back to the current situation as Lord Voldemort continued.  
  
"I wonder why I had to find out from Lucius that your so-called bride-to-be is a mudblood, and *not* from you."  
  
"Perhaps because I, unlike *some*," Severus began bitterly, tired of the games, of the one-upmanship, "have duties I must perform to maintain my cover."  
  
"Crucio!" Voldemort spat out and once again Severus found himself writhing in pain. This time, however, it was not as mercifully short. He was on his knees, ready to scream, to beg forgiveness before the agony ended.  
  
**That was incredibly *stupid*!** Severus berated himself. **You're not an impulsive Gryffindor to speak before you think!**  
  
"Your first duty is to *me*!" Voldemort snapped.  
  
"Yes, My Lord," Severus replied automatically. **Just bloody well kill me and be done with it,** he snapped silently, knowing it was a vain hope that his death would be that swift or that painless. Those 'followers' who displeased the dark lord did not escape his service without suffering his wrath first.  
  
"I think it's all a ruse, My Lord," Lucius said, and Severus snapped his head up to glare at his former comrade.  
  
**Spiteful son of a bitch!** Severus thought angrily, almost smirking at the dark look Lord Voldemort shot Lucius for his impertinence. "Unfortunately," he replied, injecting his words with as much venom as he could, "it is not. My *mother* and the Grangers signed the Marriage agreement. I was not consulted."  
  
Wincing as Voldemort once again raised his wand, Severus was surprised to see a look of speculation enter the dark lord's eyes. He was uncertain whether he should be wary of it, or grateful for it. In the end he decided he felt a little of both.  
  
"I expect you to get out of it, Severus," Voldemort ordered. "Surely *any* mother would understand if her son had developed a. . . ." He smirked before continuing, his red eyes flaring briefly. ". . . .tendre, especially if the new woman in question outranked the old in every conceivable way."  
  
**Not on Miss Granger's worst day, and Sybil's best!** Severus thought, then blinked as he realized he truly believed that. He nearly groaned aloud. He bloody respected the Gryffindor 'know-it-all'. That was something he would have considered laughable less than a day ago. When the hell had it changed?  
  
"I will try, My Lord," he replied evenly, his thoughts in chaos. How the hell was he supposed to prove he'd tried without actually 'getting out' of it? He shuddered, knowing full well the consequences should he actually 'get out' of the agreement.   
  
Being brutally honest with himself, he knew without doubt that he would far rather be tied for the rest of his miserable existence -- how ever long that may be -- to Miss Granger, than spend even *one* day tied to Sybil Trelawney. The former, while disruptive and . . . unsettling, was better than the latter, which he found utterly repugnant.  
  
"You will do more than *try*, Severus, or you will regret it!" Voldemort snapped, rising to stand above him. "I will not tolerate my followers being married to filth!  
  
**Hypocrite!**  
  
"This so-called *agreement* comes at a time to inconvenience me considerably, Severus. You would do well to consider that." Voldemort paused long enough that Severus brought his gaze up, his thoughts on fast forward, what *had* Sybil Trelawney offered the dark lord that he so obviously valued? "If your *mother*," he sneered, "cannot be convinced, I can, of course, find another . . . solution to her obstinacy."  
  
Severus barely contained the gasp at Voldemort's implied threat. The danger had expanded and now included his mother. "I understand," he replied evenly, though inside he was seething.  
  
"I hope you do, Severus," Voldemort hissed. "I expect to hear the good news that you are free to marry *my* choice *soon*. Now, go away."  
  
Nodding, Severus rose quickly. Ignoring Sybil completely, he cast one last venomous glare at Lucius Malfoy, his mind already plotting as he strode away, wanting nothing more than to already be gone. Unfortunately, he could think of no plan that didn't end with someone dead; though, the fact that he was actually leaving this meeting alive *did* surprise him. It made him wonder even more just what it was that Sybil had that Voldemort wanted so badly. He could think of only one thing, and if he was right, it really didn't bode well for the success of The Order's plans.  
  
Much as he discounted Sybil Trelawney most days, Albus was right about one thing. When she got something right, she *really* got it right. Fighting a feeling of impending doom, Severus apparated to just outside Hogwarts' grounds the moment he entered the smaller clearing. He had to see the headmaster as soon as possible.  
  
  
TBC  
Kiristeen  
Feedback: Please review, it's inspiration at its finest. : )  
Kiristeen@kiristeen.com  
  



	21. chapter Twenty

**********  
Chapter Twenty  
**********  
  
  
It was, of course, utterly useless; Severus knew that. This whole situation had escalated far beyond his ability to predict.   
  
"Of course, we can orchestrate an argument between you and your mother, Severus -- conveniently in front of the appropriate students. That will hopefully reassure certain parties of your feelings on the matter," Albus said thoughtfully.  
  
Severus snorted. Necessary as it was, he truly hated the very *public* nature of all this. He liked having his private life just that, private. "That won't help keep her safe, however."  
  
"Quite right," Albus agreed. "I'm forced to admit I don't have a clue how to solve that problem, other than convincing her to stay here at Hogwarts."  
  
"That won't guarantee her safety, Albus. You know that as well as I."  
  
"Perhaps not, but it *is* safer than anywhere else she could be right now."  
  
Severus closed his eyes, not wanting to deal with any of this right now. It had been an extraordinarily long day, and having suffered the cruciatus curse twice on top of it had left him aching and exhausted. Albus was right, as much as he hated to admit it. Unfortunately, he could come up with only one thing that would clear his mother of the danger, and that method was not acceptable.  
  
"On the other hand," Albus said slowly.  
  
Severus' head snapped up and he glared warily at the headmaster, hope warring with caution inside.  
  
"There *is* one way that should assure that his attention is diverted from your mother."  
  
"What is it, Albus?" Severus demanded instantly. "It had better be different than the only solution I could come up with."  
  
Albus chuckled a bit, sobering almost instantly. "If you've thought of a way, I sincerely doubt my idea is any different. Barring the dark lord's demise, Severus, we are running out of options."  
  
"You *can't* be serious!" Severus snapped, launching himself out of his chair and striding angrily toward the fireplace. "I won't do it! This was never intended to be carried through on, Albus, and you bloody well know it."  
  
"Yes, Severus," Albus replied as calmly as ever. "But as I said, we are running out of options. If you actually marry her, your mother is off the hook."  
  
"And Miss Granger is squarely on it!" Severus pointed out, his words just short of shouting. He firmly ignored all the personal reasons why he was so adamantly against it. There was no need to go into those. They were academic at this point. Surely the headmaster would realize it simply would *not* do.  
  
"Any more so than merely being Harry's friend *and* what she is? Truly?"  
  
Groaning, Severus turned away from the empty fireplace. The headmaster, much as he hated to admit it, was right again. She was already a prime target simply because she could be used against Potter. Of course, the fact that she regularly bested Lucius' son in the classroom didn't help her situation.  
  
"Have you read the agreement?" he asked finally, firmly suspecting the headmaster had not, if he could suggest they actually carry through with it.  
  
"No, of course not, Severus. Why?"  
  
"I suggest you do so."  
  
Puzzled, Albus rose and retrieved a copy of the agreement. At the time of its signing, Severus hadn't wanted anything to do with it and had purposefully left it behind. Wishful thinking on his part, he supposed, that perhaps it might end up destroyed. He knew better, but even he was not immune to such things in the privacy of his own mind.  
  
As he sat back down, Albus looked over at him. "Anything in particular I'm supposed to be looking for?" he asked.  
  
"I believe you'll find Part One, Provision C quite . . . illuminating," Severus replied drily.  
  
It took only moments for the headmaster to scan the parchment and find the relevant passage. "Oh!" he exclaimed quietly. "Well, I'd say that complicates matters a bit."  
  
**A bit!?**   
  
"You have *such* a way with understatement, Albus," Severus retorted drily, his tone laced heavily with sarcasm.   
  
**Bloody git!**  
  
"Damn it, Severus!" Albus snapped, surprising the potions master sharply. "The only other option seems to be to convince all parties to agree to drop the agreement -- a trial in regard to your mother I'm sure you realize. The only problem with *that*, is that it puts us right back where we started, with you hanging out to dry, and everything *everyone* has done up to this point will have been for nothing."  
  
His heart tightening in his chest, Severus slowly walked toward the headmaster. "I don't see as we have much choice, Albus. I do not want my mother endangered because of this."  
  
The headmaster sighed, looking as worn out as Severus had ever seen the wizard. "I find myself in the rather awkward position of repeating a question asked of you by a student."  
  
Frowning, Severus waited. **What the bloody hell is he talking about now?**  
  
"Is the idea so truly repugnant to you that you would rather risk the very real and imminent danger of your death at Voldemort's hands?"  
  
"Bloody hell, Albus!" Severus exploded. "That's *not* the point! Have you forgotten that it's not just my feelings on the matter that need to be addressed here!"  
  
"Perhaps not," Albus replied urbanely, much to Severus' disgust. "However, that's what we're dealing with first. Now answer the question."  
  
Why was the bastard doing this to him? "Completely wiping out the ethics of it, Albus, I'm a man, and I'm not bloody blind! Of course, the idea, in and of itself, is not 'repugnant'. She isn't ugly, by any stretch of the imagination. She's intelligent, and occasionally manages a rather sharp wit -- not that I'd admit to saying that at wand point. However, that does not mean that I'm willing to act on that. I've done a lot of things I regret in this life, but bedding a student -- married to her or not -- is a line I've never crossed.  
  
"So wait until after she's not a student anymore," Albus replied simply.  
  
Growling fiercely, Severus threw himself back into the chair he'd been seated in earlier. "You *aren't* listening to me Albus!"  
  
"I'm listening."  
  
"You're not hearing me, then."  
  
"I hear you."  
  
"No you bloody do not! Or have you conveniently forgotten the fact that there is another party involved in this? I believe I mentioned that a while back. Miss Granger is *not* going to be willing to go through with this . . . this . . . farce! It's one thing to 'pretend' in order to help me. It's another thing entirely to make it real, and you know it!"  
  
**Give it up, Albus, please. I'm begging you!** Severus thought fervently. He did not relish the idea of setting himself up for what was inevitably going to be a bitter fall -- no matter how much he expected nothing different. Completely setting aside the huge age difference between them -- he was twice her age, an insurmountable difference at 18 he well knew -- he also had absolutely no delusions about how the students viewed him. Hours spent over various cauldrons, exposing himself to fumes of all sorts, had done absolutely nothing for his appearance. He knew that. He knew as well that the effect it had on his hair called into question his hygiene habits in the minds of most students, which certainly didn't help matters.  
  
"Perhaps we should inquire, Severus, instead of merely assuming."  
  
**There goes *that* hope!** "Do what you must, Albus," he replied tiredly, finally giving up fighting with the headmaster. He should have known by now he would never win an argument with the old man.  
  
//You did earlier, in regards to Miss Granger's actions.//  
  
**Only because he wanted to do it anyway and was just looking for an excuse.**  
  
Shaking himself from his inner debate, Severus stood again, scowling fiercely. "But know that I disapprove, and I can assure you that I will not be here to witness my humiliation, thank you very much."  
  
With that, he spun away and strode out of the headmaster's office, thankful when the door closed behind him without another word from the stubborn old goat. Forcing aside things he no longer wished to consider, Severus focused instead on the 'argument' he would be having with his mother. He smirked. How many times over the years had he wished for just such an opportunity? He couldn't count them, but he was certainly not going to pass this up . . . even if it *did* have to happen in public.  
  
  
TBC  
Kiristeen  
Feedback: deliciously craved. : )  
Kiristeen@kiristeen.com  
  



	22. Chapter Twenty One

AN: I want to thank everyone who has taken the time to read my story, and especially those who have reviewed! Each and every alert makes me smile. Thank you all!  
  
  
**********  
Chapter Twenty One  
**********  
  
  
Hermione sat utterly still -- except for her hands. She couldn't seem to hold them still. She tried grasping one with the other, both of them folded together in her lap. That didn't help long. Then she lay them across the arms of the chair she was in; a position that lasted all of about ten seconds. Finally she tucked them both beneath her, in the space between the sides of the chair and her legs. Maybe if she *sat* on the bloody things she could keep them still.  
  
Hermione had just had the most surreal conversation she'd ever had in her entire life. She still hadn't really absorbed what the headmaster had just told her, nor what she'd agreed to. She'd agreed to actually *marry* Professor Snape! Her eyes widened involuntarily as that thought flashed through her mind, actually *registering* this time.  
  
_Oh, God!_ She was shaking now. Her breath was coming in short quick pants as panic began to set in. What had she done? Heart flittering rapidly against her ribs, Hermione shook her head. When the headmaster had told her what had happened, and he'd asked her point blank if she would be willing, it had seemed the logical thing to do. She couldn't very well let the professor's mother stay in danger could she? Alternately, she couldn't very well put Professor Snape right back where he'd been the night she'd had those so-called vision dreams -- she still wasn't happy about his mother's part in *that*!  
  
She had agreed it was the only thing to do in a kind of numb detachment. It hadn't been until after the headmaster had left his office to find Professor Snape--  
  
_Probably out taking house points from unsuspecting students,_ she thought uncharitably.  
  
--that the enormity of what was happening had set in and she had begun to panic.  
  
Hermione stilled suddenly, taking in a slow, deep breath. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been this stomach churning nervous in a non life and death situation. Actually, truth be told, even the dangerous adventures she'd had with Ron and Harry hadn't made her feel this bad off. This was different, though, she thought. This wasn't something that skill and bravery and the help of good friends would get her through safely. This was something of another sort entirely and she was now very, very glad she'd been called to the headmaster's office *before* eating breakfast, because she suddenly was not entirely certain it would have stayed down had she already eaten.  
  
She had agreed to marry *Professor* *Snape*! Her breathing sped up again and she had to force herself to slow back down. It wouldn't look good if the headmaster and Professor Snape walked in on her gasping in huge gulps of air just because she was having a panic attack.  
  
She laughed suddenly, the sound a little on the hysterical side she realized immediately. Jumping up from her seat, Hermione paced from one end of the lower level of the office to the other, noting with a detached part of herself that Fawkes closely watched her every move. It almost seemed as though he was amused at her nervous agitation.   
  
"Okay, Hermione Elizabeth Granger, pull yourself together!" she told herself firmly. "This isn't the end of the world." She swallowed convulsively, willing her heart to slow, willing herself to calm down. "You've agreed to marry Professor Snape. So what? It's not a big deal."  
  
She groaned. _Not a big deal?!_ It was a *big* friggin deal! She just wouldn't think about it. That was the ticket. She would do her part to thwart Voldemort's plans. She'd always known that. She had just never realized, never *imagined* that who she married would *ever* be part of that effort.  
  
The groan of stone on stone of the stairwell moving startled Hermione. She jumped, her heart leaping inside her. Hurrying back to the chair, she sat down, locking all of her apprehension inside where it couldn't be seen -- she hoped. She would make her house proud with how she carried herself through this.  
  
**  
  
Severus stalked behind the headmaster, glowering. He could *not* believe it had come to this. When he'd left the headmaster's office last night, Albus determined to put this plan to Miss Granger, he'd been certain she would balk. Consequently, he had not given a single thought to what he would do, how he would feel, if she actually *agreed*. The very fact that Albus had sought him out suggested she had done just that, and now he was at something of a loss.  
  
Truth be told, he was in a kind of numb shock, and he wasn't entirely certain he knew *what* he felt. Marriage hadn't been something he had seriously considered since, well, since before he'd graduated from Hogwarts.   
  
"Reese's Pieces," Albus said quietly, the stone gargoyle sliding open smoothly at his password.  
  
Severus had always pictured himself a man who could face anything without trepidation; after all, he willingly placed himself within easy reach of Voldemort on a regular basis -- *spying* on the megalomaniac. As they stepped onto the rising staircase, Severus' stomach flipped, and he swallowed hastily, berating himself silently. He was just going to face a *student* for Circe's sake! He had absolutely *nothing* to feel intimidated about.  
  
_Yes, a student who is your *fiancee*. Nothing intimidating about that at all._  
  
He rolled his eyes at his inner voice. Of course, this, coming on the heels of the arranged fight with his mother -- which had been far more nerve wracking than he'd suspected it would be -- he supposed it was only natural to feel a tad . . . unsettled. That's all this was. He was just grateful that he and his mother had decided to stage the fight at breakfast. As overly public, and humiliating, as that had been, it had served two purposes. One Miss Granger had, conveniently, not been present to hear what he said against her, and two, he hadn't had a chance to eat anything. So, at least he didn't have to worry about food that wouldn't settle.  
  
  
  
~~~~Severus sat at the head table, his expression darker than usual -- an accurate representation of what he was feeling. He stabbed at his food as if it were the enemy. Not feeling much like eating this morning, he made sure to glance around the great hall every couple of minutes, glaring evilly at anyone who had the temerity to actually look his direction. It wasn't long before not even his Slytherins would do so.  
  
His morning . . . chat with his mother had been illuminating. Hoping to convince her to let him, and Miss Granger, out of this predicament, he'd been surprised to find she had been a busy little *witch*. While he had been wrestling with such things as Hermione's attack on Sybil and his own visit with Lord Voldemort, his mother had been *socializing* with the students. *Socializing!*  
  
When he'd put to her that this so called marriage-to-be would put Miss Granger's life in danger, Serapha Snape had laughed, pointing out the same things Albus had. Ensconced here at Hogwarts, Hermione Granger would be in no more danger by being married to him, than she was in being one of Harry Potter's best friends.   
  
Serapha had gone one step further, saying that the girl would be safer, since it would mean she was *stay* at Hogwarts over the breaks. Severus' eyes had widened at that. _Merlin!_ He hadn't thought about *that*!  
  
_Of course, I hadn't!_ he thought sourly. _I never thought it would get this far! Why would I have thought about it?_ In the end, he'd told her about the *other* plan, the one where he fought with her about 'her choice' of bride.  
  
He tensed as the staff door opened. There was only one person it could be. It was show time.  
  
"Good morning, Severus," Serapha Snape said brightly, taking the seat next to his.  
  
"Morning, Mother," he replied shortly, "but there's nothing *good* about it."  
  
"Oh, come now, Severus," Serapha laughed lightly, "surely it can't be *that* bad."  
  
Wincing when her words were loud enough to carry, despite knowing it was necessary, Severus dropped his fork and turned to glare at the woman fully.  
  
"You are forcing my hand, Mother," he growled, his own voice just loud enough to be heard. He fought the wince as the noise level in the Great Hall dropped *immediately*. "You are using your position as head of Snape to order me into an absolutely *untenable* position. There is *nothing* good about this day at all!" he continued, allowing his voice to rise.  
  
"Be reasonable, Severus," she replied, shaking her head slightly, her voice absurdly calm. "You'll be happy to know that I've just finished arranging for the banns to be posted. They should appear in the Daily Prophet today."  
  
"Happy!?" Severus shouted, launching himself to his feet, shock coursing through him. They hadn't discussed *that*! What the bloody hell did she think she was doing? "You're destroying my life, you bloody, interfering, *busybody* . . . *Witch*!" he snapped, enraged.   
  
The gasps of most of the student body, as well as more than half his colleagues, was his exit cue. He spun away from the horrified look on his mother's face, squelching down *hard* on the immediate sense of guilt he felt. How could mothers' *do* that? His robes snapping sharply as he spun, Severus strode from the now silent room with nary a backward glance. He did not breathe easily until the staff door closed behind him. That lasted all of about twenty seconds, however, as the headmaster found him there before he could so much as even *think* about heading back to his chambers.~~~~~  
  
  
  
Face schooled into a neutral expression, Severus followed Albus into the man's office.  
  
_ 'Welcome to my parlor,' said the spider to the fly,_ Severus thought snidely, feeling a strange sort of empathy for the fictional fly. All thoughts flew out the proverbial window, however, when he caught sight of Miss Granger. Wide-eyed, Miss Granger stared at them silently as they entered, her eyes locking on his. Not a one of the three of them said anything to disturb the tense silence for several long moments.  
  
"S-so," Miss Granger began, questioningly, her eyes never wavering from his.  
  
Severus drew in a deep breath, fully intending on berating her for her less than . . . articulate beginning. The words wouldn't come, however, surprising him. "Right," he replied *just* as smoothly. He fought a groan. _That could have gone without saying._  
  
"I'm thinking the sooner the better," Albus said suddenly, his voice resounding loudly into the quiet.   
  
Severus jumped -- grateful to note that Miss Granger had as well -- and turned to face the headmaster. "Pardon me?" he asked.  
  
  
TBC  
Kiristeen  
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	23. Chapter Twenty Two

  
  
**********  
Chapter Twenty Two  
**********  
  
Severus Snape was doing something he had not done in literally years. He was gaping, open-mouthed in utter shock. Surely Albus couldn't be serious. Now? As in right now?   
  
"How?" Miss Granger asked, shaking Severus out of his stupor.  
  
He glared at her, more out of habit more than for any true reason. He wanted to know the answer as well, and was actually glad not to be the one to ask.  
  
Albus grinned -- which to Severus was a truly frightening sight to behold. The man smiled, he let joy and mischief dance in his eyes, but he *didn't* grin.   
  
"Didn't you know? I'm perfectly qualified to officiate."  
  
Beside him, Hermione Granger's eyes widened as she slowly shook her head. "No, I didn't know that," she replied in a hushed whisper. Severus was rather put out, that unlike him, she'd, at least, managed to keep her jaw from falling open.   
  
"Well," he said suddenly, not quite sure where the quip came from, "at least this will spare us the machinations of mothers intent on a huge send off."  
  
Granger giggled -- *giggled*.  
  
Unfortunately, the sound -- usually very grating on his nerves -- served to trigger a strange response this time. The corners of his mouth twitched upward and he felt a nearly insane urge to laugh. Severus Snape, Potions Master, ex-deatheater, did NOT *giggle*. He stifled the urge quickly. Judging by the renewed surprise in Granger's expression, however, he was certain the almost smile *hadn't* gone unnoticed. That suspicion was verified the moment she spoke.  
  
"We may not have outwitted her before, but at least we've got the jump this time," she quipped, looking up at him and grinning wryly. "Just because we're doing exactly what she wants is neither here nor there."  
  
He snorted. "And just *where* is it?" he asked before he could censor his words.  
  
**Now where the hell did *that* come from?**  
  
Following a quick snort of surprised laughter, Granger's jaw dropped and she stared at him. She recovered all too quickly, however. "With the squid in the lake," she replied, her eyes dancing merrily.  
  
That was it. He couldn't stop it this time. It erupted out of him despite his best efforts and one Severus Snape found himself collapsing in laughter onto one of Albus' overly stuffed chairs. His outburst, apparently contagious, seemed to send Miss Granger into a similar state. Even Albus was chuckling.  
  
The laughter left as quickly as it had come and he wondered why he'd been laughing in the first place. Admittedly, it was a good comeback, but it hadn't been *that* funny.  
  
A gentle clearing of Albus' throat had the two of them instantly focused on the older wizard. "I know from your mother that she has already posted the banns, Severus."  
  
Severus nodded, despite the fact that Albus hadn't actually asked it as a question.  
  
"Of course, that makes this only slightly shocking."  
  
"Shocking, Sir?" Granger asked. "I mean more so than the whole thing to start with?"  
  
"Banns are usually posted a *minimum* of 6 months before the wedding actually takes place, Miss Granger," Albus replied. "Certain members of society will look upon such . . . haste with suspicion for some time, I'm afraid."  
  
Granger's frown deepened. "Suspicion? Why?"  
  
Severus rolled his eyes. "Why do most people get married quickly?" he asked sourly.  
  
"Oh!" Granger gasped, turning red . . . again. "Oh my!"  
  
"Indeed."  
  
"That's going to add some flames to the gossip," she muttered.  
  
Severus snorted. That was putting it mildly.  
  
"Unfortunately, there isn't much we can do about it," Albus said gently. "It will die down quickly enough, once everyone realizes there obviously was no, erm, 'reason'."  
  
They both nodded, neither one of them willing to meet the gaze of the other. That was a subject neither one of them was comfortable contemplating at all.  
  
"Well, then," Albus said brightly -- too brightly in Severus' opinion. "Shall we get on with it?"  
  
"Wait," Granger said suddenly, stalling Severus' automatic nod. He'd given up protesting the whole procedure what seemed *hours* ago. He frowned and turned the full force of his glare on his 'bride'.  
  
"What now?" he snarled.   
  
**What do you think? She's changing her mind.**  
  
"This may not be the ideal situation, certainly not what I'd planned when I thought about it at all," she said quietly, "but I'd at least like my friends to be here. I know it's too late to include my parents, but Ron, Harry, and Ginny aren't too much to ask, are they?"  
  
**Great!** Severus thought sourly. **Just great!**  
  
"Of course," Albus replied instantly, "forgive me for being a doddering old fool. Sometimes I forget what it's like to be young."  
  
Severus rolled his eyes, but forced himself to remain silent. Anything he said would simply prolong the agony.  
  
Albus snapped his fingers and instantly a house elf appeared.  
  
"How may Winky be helping the headmaster, Sir?"  
  
Albus quickly listed off the students Granger had requested be present, asking the house elf to tell them their presence was required in the Great Hall.  
  
"The Great Hall, Headmaster?" Severus protested, interrupting the headmaster. "Surely that's a bit too . . . public."  
  
"Not at all Severus," Albus demurred, "most of the student body are in classes right now. The only ones present will be those invited."  
  
Severus frowned as Albus continued giving the tiny house elf instructions, including a summons for Severus' mother, as well as Minerva. That was five 'guests', or perhaps more appropriately, witnesses. This . . . event was now taking place in the Great Hall, not the headmaster's office. It was rapidly turning into a spectacle, not just a procedure to get through with. He was even telling the bloody creature to make a special lunch -- to be considered the wedding feast.  
  
Severus groaned. No doubt Albus intended on an 'announcement' at said meal. Unfortunately, Severus was missing a rather noticeable accessory. He hadn't really given it much thought before, but had figured that he could simply get Miss Granger an appropriate ring the next time he was in Hogsmeade. He hadn't considered that Miss Granger would want anything *approaching* a 'normal' wedding, considering the circumstances, so her request to have her friends present threw him and he was beginning to wonder if waiting on the ring might not be a *very* bad idea. At the very least the lack of a ring would add to the rampant speculation and *that* was something he could well do without.  
  
"Albus, how long will this take to arrange?" he asked abruptly, the moment the house elf disappeared.  
  
"Not more than thirty minutes, I should assume," Albus replied, surprise flitting briefly across the his face.  
  
"Make it an hour," he said, and spun around, immediately striding toward the stairwell.  
  
"Where are you going, Severus?"  
  
"There's something I have to do," Severus replied enigmatically without bothering to turn around, smirking at the muttered replies he couldn't quite make out.  
  
He made it as far as the entrance hall before his luck ran out and he ran into his mother. "Mother," he acknowledged, nodding to her. "I will see you in one hour," he offered, sweeping past her and out the front door.  
  
"What's going on, Severus?" she called after him.  
  
He didn't reply, simply kept moving. The door shutting behind him drowned out her reply. Severus felt a very real sense of vindictive pleasure at that. No doubt she was furious at him. He did wonder, briefly, if she would follow to demand a reply, but realized she probably wouldn't. She would go to Albus instead, her curiosity as to what the headmaster might have summoned her for would override her curiosity as to where he was going. At least he was reasonably sure it would. It never paid to be certain of assumptions where his mother was concerned.  
  
Fortunately, it appeared he was correct this time. As he passed through Hogwarts entry gates he sighed in relief and prepared to apparate to Hogsmeade. It was then a sudden thought occurred to him. He couldn't make his intended purchase. Doing so would send the wrong message to all the wrong people.  
  
He sighed again, this time for a very different reason. Giving in to the inevitable -- it seemed he'd been doing that a lot lately -- he apparated to a place he hadn't seen in nearly a full two decades. He apparated to Snape Manor.  
  
**  
  
Hermione Granger sat abruptly as her legs pre-emptorily decided they simply would not support her one moment longer. She was getting married. Married . Now . To Professor Snape.  
  
**Oh my!**  
  
"Are you all right, Miss Granger?" the headmaster asked gently, laying his hand comfortingly on her shoulder.  
  
She fought the impulse to shake it off. **No, I'm *NOT* all right!** she thought viciously. **How could I be?**   
  
"Yes, Sir, I'm . . . fine. I'm just . . . in shock, I think," she replied.  
  
Headmaster Dumbledore nodded, sympathy shining from his normally bright eyes. "Understandable."  
  
"It's just that I never really thought. . . ." Hermione's words trailed off. How was she supposed to explain this to the headmaster without giving the wrong impression? She knew what she was doing. She wasn't going to back out, had absolutely no intention of doing so . . . but, all the same, she was absolutely terrified. Everything was happening so fast, everything spinning beyond her control. It was like her life had suddenly become a roller coaster ride, one she hadn't bought a ticket to, and one she wasn't allowed to get off of.  
  
Fortunately, before she felt forced to say something more, and before the headmaster could utter any soothing platitudes that would do absolutely nothing to change the situation, the stone stairway began moving and the headmaster moved away with a polite, "excuse me a moment."  
  
"What in Merlin's name is going on?"  
  
**Oh no! Mrs. Snape!** Hermione jumped to her feet, instinctively patting down her hair and smoothing the wrinkles out of her robe. This woman was going to be her mother-in-law.   
  
**Mother-in-law!!**  
  
Hermione gulped, a dizzy spell dancing behind her eyes. Oh, how she wished her parents hadn't already gone home. They were going to come back, but by then, it would all be over with. She barely heard the quiet conversation between Mrs. Snape and the headmaster, the world around her sort of fuzzing out until she heard a delighted laugh that echoed around the room.  
  
**Hermione Granger! This isn't some fairy tale! You're doing this to save your Professor's life.**  
  
"Miss Granger, Hermione," Mrs. Snape exclaimed, striding toward her, hands outstretched.  
  
Hermione took them automatically.  
  
"Mrs. Snape," she acknowledged.  
  
"I thought we agreed that you would call me Serapha?"  
  
**That was before that blasted contract!** Hermione thought vindictively. "Right," she replied politely. "In all the confusion, I forgot."  
  
"Of course you did, dear child," responded easily, pausing as her expression turned hopeful. "Could I ask a favor?"  
  
Hermione blinked. **And the surprises keep on coming!** "What kind of favor?" she asked warily.  
  
TBC  
Kiristeen  
Feedback: oh, yes please. : )  
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	24. Chapter Twenty Three

Thanks everyone who has reviewed -- especially during the long downtime. Your words are all muchly appreciated. I hope the new chapters make up for the delay in posting. Enjoy!  
  
Kiri  
  
Also, instead of the often confusing and denoting emphasis and thoughts, I've changed to using italics. Hope that doesn't throw anyone.   
  
Chapter Twenty Three  
  
Hermione gaped in astonishment. Never in her wildest dreams had she envisioned _this_ when Mrs. Snape, Serapha, had asked her favor. Swallowing hastily, she snapped her jaw shut and turned her gaze toward the older witch. "I," she began, pausing audibly, "don't know what to say."  
  
"Say that you'll wear it," Serapha replied easily, smiling hopefully. "It was my mother's. She wore it on her wedding day, and I wore it on mine. I would be so very pleased to see it worn by the woman my son is marrying."  
  
Hermione reached out with a shaking hand to run her fingertips over the satiny material. The dress was a vision of old world elegance. Not white -- thank God -- but that off-white, so often referred to as 'antique' white. Hermione didn't know why they called it white at all. Either something was white or it wasn't.  
  
"Of course, we would alter it some to personalize it for you."  
  
Hermione nodded absently, her gaze never leaving the rather incredible dress in front of her. "It would certainly take care of the 'something old and something borrowed'," she said quietly.  
  
"Oh, no," Serapha exclaimed. "Only something old."  
  
"What?" Hermione asked, confused.  
  
"The dress would be yours."  
  
Snapping her head around to gape, once again, at Serapha Snape, Hermione repeated herself. "What?"  
  
Her smile softening with something that looked like regret, Serapha stepped toward Hermione. "I never had a daughter to pass this on to. If I had, I would have given it to her to pass on to her daughter when the time came. I would be honored if you would allow me to give it to you, instead."  
  
Hermione couldn't believe it when her eyes teared up at the offer. _She's manipulating you, Hermione Elizabeth Granger!_ she thought angrily, but somehow couldn't quite voice that out loud. She nodded slowly, to the obvious delight of Serapha. The woman _squealed_.  
  
"Thank you!"  
  
Uncomfortable with the outpouring from the older woman, not understanding all the excitement over this . . . thing that was happening. It wasn't like they were in love and getting married because they wanted to. It was happening only because it just might save a couple of lives. Hermione smiled wanly at her. "I'm honored to wear it," she replied softly.  
Far be it from her to hurt the older witch's feelings.  
  
"Well, now, you need to try it on," Serapha said, stepping toward Hermione.  
  
Feeling as though she were in a trance, Hermione allowed herself to be undressed and dressed, keeping her eyes lowered the entire time. She'd never been in this kind of situation before, and she was uncomfortably aware that she had absolutely no clue as to the proper 'protocol'. Being dressed like a doll by a woman who just _happened_ to be her professor's mother _and_ just happened to be her future mother-in-law was a far cry from undressing in front of her dormmates.  
  
The gasp from Serapha Snape as the woman finished buttoning the last button up the back of the gown, snapped Hermione's eyes upward. She echoed the sound, staring at the surprising reflection immediately in front of her. "Wow," she murmured. The bodice was fitted all the way down to her hips, and molded her upper body like a glove. The full skirt hung loosely, swaying around her legs as she turned to look at the gown from different angles. The back held just the barest hint of a train to trail behind her.  
  
"Wow, indeed," Serapha agreed. "It looks as if it was made for you. It won't take much alteration at all." So saying, Serapha picked up her wand, and with the uttering of several quick spells, she tightened the bodice of the dress slightly, flared out the hips a bit more, and shorted the length of the gown by several inches.  
  
"Perfect," Serapha proclaimed moments later, slowly circling the still Hermione.  
  
A knock at the door made Hermione jump and she whirled around, whipping out her wand before she thought about her reaction. Beside her, Serapha laughed. "Sorry," Hermione muttered as she stepped toward the door, lowering her wand. "I guess I'm a little jumpy," she continued contritely as she paused long enough to lift the hem of the gown.  
  
"You're entitled."  
  
Hermione almost rolled her eyes. _Right, like __you're_ not making it all worse by acting so . . . nice. It was just plain creepy if you asked her. "Who is it?" she called out as she reached the door, not sure why she was being so . . . wound up all of a sudden. She just was.  
  
"It's me, Ginny."  
  
Hermione grinned and jerked the door open. "I'm _so_ glad you're here!" she exclaimed.  
  
Ginny's eyes widened as she froze in the doorway. The moment didn't last as the younger Gryffindor suddenly squealed and launched herself at Hermione. "You look _fantastic_, Hermione!" she exclaimed. "Oh, Merlin! You have _got_ to tell me absolutely _everything_," she continued excitedly, pulling Hermione back into the room and promptly dropping down onto one of the couches. "It's true then? You're getting married? Who to? When did this come about? How did you meet?" Ginny stalled suddenly, her eyes narrowing. "Are you pregnant?" she demanded.  
  
"No!" Hermione vehemently denied, blushing as red as Ginny's hair.  
  
Serapha chuckled.  
  
"Okay, now that we've got that out of the way," Ginny nodded. "How about you answer all my other questions?"  
  
"I'm not sure I can remember all of them," Hermione replied, laughing nervously, not entirely certain just how much she should reveal. "There were _so_ many." Did she lie to her friends, or did she tell the truth?  
  
Ginny opened her mouth, and Hermione was absolutely certain she was going to repeat the verbal assault she had babbled the moment she'd made herself comfortable. Hermione held up her hand to forstall her young friend. "I remember," she said, smiling wryly.  
  
Severus Snape apparated back to the gates of Hogwarts, his mission to his family home completed successfully. A quick glance at his pocket watch as he passed through the gates, reassured him he still had plenty of time. He still had 25 minutes to get himself prepared for the ceremony. Personally, he really didn't think all this ruckus was necessary. Why couldn't they have simply held the short, necessary ritual in Albus' office? Had they done that, it would now be over with. But, no, the silly chit had to go and ask that her precious _friends_ attend.  
  
Albus, sentimental old fool that he was, just _had_ to jump on that particular bandwagon and suddenly invite Severus' own mother -- the bloody woman that had made such a tangled mess out of the whole matter in the first place. Of course, the old barmy bat couldn't possibly stop there. No, he had to go and invite _staff_ as well. Okay, so it was only Minerva, which wasn't so bad, really, despite all appearances to the contrary, but still; it made it all some big _production_, for Merlin's sake.  
  
Didn't Albus have a single clue? Neither one of them wanted this marriage, it was a matter of convenience only. He snorted. _A matter of _inconvenience _more like,_ he thought sourly. Lost in his thoughts, it took both far too long to reach his quarters and not nearly long enough. He scowled as he passed through the door, muttering the password without slowing his stride.  
  
Stripping quickly, he glanced at the wall clock as he headed for the bathroom. Sixteen minutes to go. Sixteen minutes until what felt like his doom. Thank Circe for drying charms, or he would never be ready in time. Of course, he didn't overly care if he kept Granger waiting. That wasn't the point. Severus Snape hated tardiness and made it a point to _always_ be on time, regardless of the circumstances. This would be no exception.  
  
He'd also be damned if he was going to appear any less than perfectly attired, not with the spectacle that Miss Granger and Albus had turned this into.  
  
TBC  
Kiristeen  
Feedback: Definitely, wholeheartedly encouraged. : )  
  
  



	25. Chapter Twenty Four

Thanks to everyone who has reviewed and encouraged me to keep going. : ) It's just what I needed.  
  
Chapter Twenty Four  
  
Sybil hurried toward Hogwarts, shivering in the crisp morning air. In the cold light of day, what she'd done didn't seem as easily justifiable. But what else could she have done? It was her _life_ she was trying to save. She shivered again, but this time, it had nothing at all to do with the temperature of the air. What she was going to do now, she absolutely no clue. Something told her the Severus Snape was not going to give in and do as Voldemort asked, and short of revealing what she _really_ knew about Hogwarts' potions master she had no more leverage. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately she admitted with a wince, she wasn't about to stoop quite that low.  
  
Lost in thought, her mind whirling, Sybil reached the front doors of the school much more quickly that she would have liked. She still had so much to think about. Unfortunately, she had classes to teach today, none of which -- thankfully -- had been early this morning as she had been unable to return until now. She simply no longer had the luxury of the time she so badly needed to sort things out. She didn't even know what she was going to tell Albus about where she'd been -- assuming he asked. Pausing on the front step, Sybil Trelawney drew in a deep, fortifying breath before opening the door and stepping inside.  
  
Frowning, she immediately sensed something . . . different than usual -- not that she was often down in the main part of the castle. She much preferred to remain in her tower most of the time, which made it difficult to sort out what seemed out of place. The front hall was empty, as it usually was this time of day, all the students and most of the teachers in class. Slowly scanning around her, she could find nothing that would account for the odd feeling.  
  
Her frown deepening alongside her discontent, Sybil moved forward slowly. She still had _some_ time before she had to get ready for class. Lunch didn't even begin for another twenty minutes or so, and her first class today was after that. She crossed toward the great hall, preferring to take the shorter route through that room, rather than make her way through half the castle just to reach her sanctuary.  
  
The moment she opened the door, however, her world came crashing down around her. For a split second in time everything stopped, and she took in the frozen tableau in front of her.  
  
_Merlin, help me!_ she though in frantic prayer.  
  
Several students -- mostly Gryffindors, she noticed -- were gathered near the front of the room, where the head table normally stood, along with Minerva, Severus, Serapha, and Albus. They all stared at her. The young woman Sybil had watched grow up -- with something akin to terror -- was dressed resplendently in an antique gown that molded itself to her body. Next to her, Severus' expression was thunderous, and Sybil gulped, truly fearing for her life. Before her was the scene she'd long dreaded, and she had absolutely no doubt that she had helped it happen. Why else would the headmaster be involved in this? There could be no other explanation.  
  
"Noooooo!" she screamed, and with that sound, time seemed to right itself. Everyone moved at once, all speaking, demanding explanations. It was a cacophony of noise she could not make sense of and did not try. Her eyes were glued to an angry Severus Snape, striding toward her, wand drawn and pointed at her. He had nearly reached her before she even thought to reach for her own wand, drawing it against a coworker was not something she had ever thought she would do. By then it was too late. She didn't hear the spell he uttered, nor the one Albus fired off in unision. She only saw the blue light of Severus' spell, and the yellow light of Albus' combine around in a green haze. As the world went black around her as she fell to the floor, pure unadulterated terror coursing through her body, she had one final thought. _I was wrong!_  
  
"Severus!" Albus snapped, and Sybil jumped, consciousness returning to her all at once. "What would you have me do? Fire her?"  
  
"Yes!" Severus retorted angrily.  
  
"You know as well as I do that act would only serve to give her no choice but to truly turn to he-who-must-not-be-named."  
  
_What have I done?!_ Sybil thought despairingly, fast on the heels of which came the thought, _I'm alive!_  
  
"Do what you must, Albus!" Severus snarled. "You always do. Just keep that woman away from me!"  
  
"I'll do that, Severus," Albus replied quietly, sounding weary and defeated to Sybil.  
  
Tears leaked out the corners of her still closed eyes. The scene she had dreamed about since childhood had come to pass and she was still alive. Somehow, not only had she managed to misinterpret the entire thing, but that in all of her maneuvering to avoid it, she had actually had a hand in making it come to pass. How could she have been so blind?  
  
She stiffened as she heard movement near her bed. No doubt it was Albus, come to mete out her punishment. She knew she deserved nothing less than what Severus had demanded, but thanked everything she held dear that it wasn't going to happen.  
  
"Sybil Trelawney," Albus said quietly. It wasn't a question, it was a command, one that told her he knew she was aware.  
  
Turning slowly, she opened her eyes, instantly wishing she hadn't. There were many things she would far rather face than the incredible disappointment on Albus Dumbledore's face. The words, 'I'm so sorry,' trembled on her lips, but she didn't say them. Words would never be enough.  
  
"Do you have even the slightest idea what you've done?" Albus asked her, his words quiet, but backed by a hint of steel the headmaster usually did not show.  
  
Sybil's eyes widened. "Yes," she replied firmly, despite her trembling and the desire to hide beneath her covers as she had when she'd been a child, back when such flimsy things actually seemed to be adequate protection from the horrors of the world. "I've betrayed your trust," she continued in a whisper, her voice abandoning her as she admitted her guilt.  
  
"Quite," Albus replied evenly, his disappointment showing even more, "but that's the very _least_ of what you've done."  
  
She did not agree, but didn't say so aloud. She may have been wrong. She may have stepped over the line. But what she'd done, she had done to save her own life . . . or so she'd thought. The only thing she truly regretted about any of it, was disappointing the man standing at her bedside. That hurt.  
  
"I will not fire you," he said finally, when it became apparent she had nothing more to say.  
  
Relief flooded her to actually hear the words she'd been sure would come.  
  
"Nor will I ask what your _possible_ motivation could have been," anger flaring in his eyes. "Nothing you could say could possibly be reason enough."  
  
Sybil gasped, a tiny spark of her own anger flaring. "What would you do to prevent your own death, a death you'd seen in nightmare visions since childhood!?" she snapped. She was in the wrong; she _knew_ that. That didn't mean there weren't mitigating circumstances.  
  
Albus' expression faded from angry to simply weary, with an edge of sadness mixed in. "I would hope that I would not be willing to sacrifice another in my place."  
  
_I hope you never have to find out,_ Sybil thought sullenly, angered more than she cared to admit at the headmaster's unwillingness to understand her position. She had threatened no one's life; she had merely tried to orchestrate her own marriage to the man she'd seen wed another. What was so bloody wrong with that? _Can we say _Dark Lord? her thoughts echoed back to her and she winced. Yes, that had been a particularly bad move on her part, she had to admit.  
  
"You will no longer have the freedoms you used to," Albus continued. "Your outside communications will be monitored, your fireplace will be banned from the floo system. Your--"  
  
"You can't do that!" Sybil protested, launching herself to a sitting position.  
  
"I can and I will, Professor Trelawney," Albus said sternly, his voice even and diamond hard. "In a better world, I would see you to prison for what you've done."  
  
Sybil gasped.  
  
"As it stands, we both know that is impossible. The third condition of your continued employment; not only will you remain in your tower and have no contact with students outside class time, you will not be allowed to leave the school unsupervised."  
  
_Fine!_ Sybil thought angrily, her eyes narrowing. _I'll abide by your rules, but only until I find myself other employment._  
  
"Should you decide you cannot abide by these conditions, Professor, you will be fired."  
  
"Wouldn't that defeat the purpose of all those . . . _rules_ in the first place?" Sybil asked snidely, tired of the game already. She had no patience for such as this.  
  
"No, I assure you it would not," Albus said softly. Leaning forward, his normally cheerful eyes narrowing as the focused fully on her. "I would let it be known to any future employer of yours that you were fired for the willful endangerment of both coworker and student."  
  
For the first time Sybil Trelawney felt the full impact of the powerful wizard Albus Dumbledore really was, and it wasn't something she was looking forward to seeing again any time soon. The headmaster was frightening when he wanted to be. "You would keep me from getting a job?" she asked, shocked.  
  
"I most definitely would," Albus replied immediately. "I want you here so I can keep an eye on you."  
  
Sybil slumped back. She was well and truly stuck. It was a disaster of her own making, and she saw no way out of it for a long time to come.  
  
"As soon as Poppy releases you from the infirmary, you will be escorted to your tower."  
  
Sybil nodded numbly as she watched the headmaster turn and walk away without so much as a backward glance. The moment the door closed behind him, loneliness crept in and surrounded her, wrapping her in a cloak of depression. Silent tears falling down her cheeks, she closed her eyes, blocking out everything and everyone.  
  
TBC  
Kiristeen  
Feedback: It's muse food. : )  
  
  



	26. Chapter Twenty Five

Hi all, Thank you so much for the reviews. : )  
  
Sorry that the last chapter seemed abrupt. I had figured not to actually do the wedding scene since it had been done ad nauseum, but since it seems wanted, : ), I'll add a flashback next chapter, basically as soon as Hermione wakes up. I may have one from Severus' pov also. I haven't decided that, as yet.  
  
Cheers.  
  
Chapter Twenty Five  
  
For the first time since his first year teaching here, Severus Snape dreaded going back to his chambers. It had taken all of twenty minutes after leaving the hospital wing for him to discover that Miss Granger, his _wife_ -- he shuddered at the mere thought -- had not gone back to Gryffindor tower as he'd expected, but had rather been sent to his chambers for the night. Outraged, he'd stormed to Albus' office. He was bloody well _not_ going to put up with _this_! He may have had to marry the chit, but there were _rules_ about teacher/student interaction . . . and not a one of them allowed cohabitation. He had figured all along that if worst came to worst, he still wouldn't have to deal with her until after she bloody well graduated.  
  
"Albus!" Severus shouted as the staircase stopped moving and he strode into the ever-cluttered headmaster's office. "Some bloody idiot has lost what little mind they have left!"  
  
"What _ever_ are you talking about, Severus?" asked wearily.  
  
Severus paused, momentarily surprised by the weary, frustrated sound of the headmaster's voice. He couldn't remember a time he'd heard it before. As far as he was concerned, it _really_ didn't bode well. Albus, despite his many quirks and eccentricities, was the rock upon which his foundations were laid. Until now that had been firm and unyielding. His frown deepening, he stepped closer to the much older wizard, looking closely at him for the first time in ages. He saw what he always saw, other than a hint of tiredness, an eye-twinkling, white-haired wizard who delighted in perplexing others. Within a moment of verbally questioning the mask the headmaster wore, Severus shook his head mentally. If Albus wanted him not to see just how tired he was, then he wouldn't 'see'. It was the least he could do for the man who had been such a determining part of his life -- irritating pain in the arse or not.  
  
"The Granger girl was directed to sleep in _my_ chambers," he said instead, hoping that, per usual, the headmaster would set the world to rights.  
  
"Yes, she was," Albus replied evenly, the brightness immediately gone from his eyes.  
  
Biting back a snarl, and fighting against a nearly overwhelming disappointment, Severus leaned over the edge of Albus' desk, resting his weight on his fists. "Well, what are you going to do about it?" he snapped.  
  
_ Do something about it, you old codger, like you're supposed to!_  
  
"She obviously can't stay there. You know damn well that even my going down there to tell her to go back to her dorm would spread talk across the school like wildfire in August. I don't personally fancy getting fired over this. Mere _rumors_ of inappropriate behavior would be enough to see me run out of here -- if not tarred and feathered on the way out."  
  
Albus shook his head. "That won't be an issue," he assured with a negligent way of his hand. "The two of you are married."  
  
This time he did growl. "In name only, Albus, and you bloody well know that! She's still a student here."  
  
"Yes, I do know that," Albus began, "but that--"  
  
"Cut the meandering, Albus. I want that _student_ out of my chambers, and I want her out now. Send either Minerva or Poppy down there to fetch her so I can go to sleep."  
  
"Sit, Severus," Albus commanded.  
  
Unused to anything except cheerful chiding from the headmaster, Severus was surprised into obeying. He immediately glared at the source of his irritation the moment he'd realized what had happened. He stayed put, however, refusing to outwardly admit he'd done anything except exactly what he wanted to do. It simply wasn't a Slytherin thing to do.  
  
"It was headmaster Phineas who mentioned the rules regarding this situation."  
  
Groaning, Severus wilted back into the chair. "Rules?" he asked flatly.  
  
_There are rules for this?!_ By only the thinest of margins, did he manage _not_ to groan and bury his head in his hands. _Really, what else could _possibly_ go wrong?_  
  
"What rules?" he asked, carefully editing the full measure of his frustration and keeping it from his voice.  
  
Instead of replying, like any sane man would, Albus rose instead, crossed the room and pulled out a dusty tome that easily weighed ten pounds. He deftly opened to the precise page he wanted and handed it over.  
  
Severus' eyes narrowed suspiciously when the headmaster refused to meet his steady gaze. "Must you be so melodramatic, Albus?" he asked, taking the bloody thing. "Just tell me what new conundrum has come up to make my life miserable."  
  
Albus shook his head. "I don't think you would believe me."  
  
Frowning in earnest now, Severus diverted his attention to the words in front of him. _Not believe him?_ That was a little far-fetched, now wasn't it? He couldn't imagine a person he believed in more.  
  
_Oh for bloody Merlin's sake!_ he thought as he redirected his attention to the old tome, now in his hands, reading the paragraph Albus had pointed out.  
  
Married students shall not be permitted to reside with their maidenly classmates. Adult knowledge of the womanly art of marriage would be a disruptive and corrupting influence that would be inappropriate.  
  
"What utter rot!" he exclaimed heatedly, the words as explosive as they were automatic. "When in Hades was this written, Albus? The dark ages?"  
  
"A fair approximation," Albus admitted readily, though a bit sheepishly.  
  
Severus was gobsmacked. It had finally happened. It really had. Albus had finally gone completely off his nut. Either that, or he was finally old enough and senility had suddenly set in. "And you still intend to abide by it?" he asked incredulously, despite his efforts otherwise. "You _really_ intend to support this utter . . . _tripe_?"  
  
"I don't have a choice, Severus," Albus replied quietly. "As much as I abhor the sentiments this rule displays, I'm trapped -- as are you and Miss Gr-- Snape. You are as aware as I that Fudge, with Lucius' prodding, is bound and determined to see me ousted as headmaster. I _must_ abide by all the rules, so they have nothing to give the board of governors. Even ones as old and obviously outdated as the ones that apply to this situation _must_ be followed. After this . . . crisis . . . is over, then we can look into a thorough upgrading of the rules of conduct."  
  
"Fine!" Severus snapped, seeing the other wizard's point, but not wanting to. He would _much_ rather the whole sordid situation were put to and over with. He wanted absolutely nothing to do with any of it. "Then find her private quarters, but bloody well get her out of mine."  
  
Albus shook his head. "That, also, will not be possible."  
  
Breathing deeply, hoping to prevent the tension headache he was rapidly developing from turning into a migraine of full-blown proportions, Severus gave up even bothering to glare. "And why not?" he asked archly. This really was getting to be too much for him to handle. One thing after another had gone wrong today -- the only thing right was that he was still alive, and right now, he really wasn't too sure that was a good thing.  
  
"That is two paragraphs further on."  
  
"Joy," Severus replied drily, wanting to make the headmaster actually pronounce his doom.  
  
Not bothering even a token protest, however, Severus returned his attention to the previously offered text. "Other than quite possibly the dark lord," he asked after reading for several minutes, not really expecting an answer, "who could I have _possibly_ enraged this badly?" he asked grimly. Then another thought hit him, sending a spark of pure, masculine panic racing through his blood. "Did Miss Granger read this? Does she realize that the continuation of her schooling rests solely with my . . . _whim_?"  
  
Eyes widening slightly, Albus hastily shook his head. "I know better than that," he replied, chuckling. "She may be a student, and young yet, but she is _still_ a woman -- one with quite a temper from what I've heard from young Harry. Over years of learning to deal with Minerva, I've learned a few things about the female psyche -- not everything to be sure, but enough. Frankly, the less said about things that are _obviously_ not going to be taken advantage of the better."  
  
Severus almost chuckled at the slight warning note in Albus' voice. It wasn't a warning he needed. Albus' disappointment was not something he would willingly choose to undergo at the best of times, and this certainly wasn't one of those times. Though, he did have to admit that the thought of taunting the know-it-all Gryffindor with it just _once_ was incredibly tempting. He sighed mentally. As much fun as it would no doubt be, it simply wouldn't be worth the pain that would follow. For the moment it seemed he was stuck with Miss Granger, stuck, also, with having to share his private living space. He, no more than any man, wished to do so with a female in a righteous snit. Student or not, some . . . concessions would have to be made or neither of them were going to survive the school year.  
  
He smirked. "I've certainly seen ample enough evidence of Miss Granger's temper without having to resort to trusting _Potter's_ judgement," he replied drily. "If you will recall, most of Hogwart's saw a rather impressive display of it just recently."  
  
"Ah, yes, the infamous hallway incident."  
  
And so the blasted conversation had gone, and no matter what he said, nothing changed -- nothing could change really. As much as he had protested, he _had_ understood that. That _didn't_ mean he had to like it. Miss Granger was still on the other side of this door, and if he didn't want to be caught lingering outside his own chambers by some skulking student, he needed to gather his dignity around him and just bloody well go inside.  
  
He completely ignored the little voice inside that mentioned the fact that the young lady in question was not 'Granger' any longer. That was something he simply was _not_ ready to deal with.  
  
Growling at himself, he quickly undid the wards and stepped inside, bracing himself for confrontation. All set, he was instantly stymied the moment he walked in the door. Instead of the sour haridan he'd expected to find, he found her sound asleep on the sofa . . . looking far too young for his peace of mind. Torn between relief at putting off the inevitable, and irritation that he'd prepared and there was currently nothing to prepare for, he finally sighed amd gave it up as a lost cause. Quietly crossing the room, he grabbed an extra blanket and carefully laid it over Granger.  
  
Shaking his head as he watched the sleeping girl, he finally snorted softly and took himself off to bed. Time enough to deal with the oddities in the morning. Perhaps things wouldn't look quite so bad after a full night's sleep.  
  
TBC  
Kiristeen  
Feedback: Yes, please, with cream and sugar. : )  
  
  



	27. Chapter Twenty Six

**I'm back**: )) I'll have a longer explanation up in my profile later, if anyone's interested.  
**AN:** This story has taken a rather left turn (or three to four of them) from what I'd originally intended. As such, I'm not sure there will be any true lemons (there is still a possibility, though). Sorry if that disappoints.

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Chapter Twenty Six  
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Hermione startled awake, launching herself upright, gasping until her mind woke enough to remember where she was. She frowned, glancing around the dimly lit predawn room. Nothing seemed different than when Professor McGonagall had brought her down here.

Except for the blanket, she realized suddenly. Puzzled, she glanced at the door she knew -- she'd snooped of course -- led to a bedchamber. Was Professor Snape in there? Was he the one that had covered her last night? She didn't remember falling asleep, certainly hadn't intended to, but even so, she couldn't picture the harsh Professor Snape, covering her up gently enough that she didn't wake up.

She snorted to herself. No, he was more likely to shake her awake and yell at her for her presumption. She glanced at the door again, this time nervously. What would he be like first thing in the morning? He didn't exactly seem to be the morning type, and his temper was uncertain at the best of times. It might be better, she thought, to simply be gone before he got up.

She frowned then, however, not knowing which would provoke a worse response from the potions master . . . being here or not being here. Should she wait until he arose before leaving? Biting her lip indecisively, she rose tentatively, folding the blanket neatly, and carefully laying it over the arm of the couch. If nothing else, she could at least get ready for the day. It wasn't until she was nearly to the private bathroom that she cast a glance at the clock. Only then did she realize how incredibly early it still was. 5am.

She glanced back at the couch, contemplating going back to sleep, but quickly vetoed the idea, as she was certain the short amount of sleep she would get between now and her normal rising time, would simply make her feel more tired than she already did. Giving up sleep as a lost cause, Hermione headed -- i quietly /i -- for the bathroom to ready herself for the day. She was still torn between being here or gone when Professor Snape woke up, but either way, at least she would be ready.

_As ready as I can be,_ she thought nervously.

Carefully closing the door behind her, Hermione locked herself in the bathroom. A quiet 'lumos' later, had her jumping out of her skin as she found herself suddenly staring at her reflection. "Moron," she berated herself, hand on her chest as her heart beat rapidly. Rolling her eyes, she started to turn away, but stopped as a sudden thought hit her.

"I'm married," she whispered, her eyes wide and disbelieving. It didn't seem real. It had happened so fast, with so little true warning. The whole thing had been 'pretend' for all but two hours before the deed was done. It simply didn't seem possible.

She stepped closer to the mirror, eyeing herself closely. She didn't look any different. She certainly didn't feel any different. She frowned, her gaze never leaving her minute inspection. Shouldn't _something_ be different about her? She snorted, scoffing at the inane thought and resolutely turning away from the now haunting relfection.

Difference, or no, she was still a married woman. She was no longer Hermione Granger. She was Hermione Snape. "Mrs. Snape," she whispered, the words barely audible. She giggled uneasily. It sounded in no way right, the name and title almost making her look over her shoulder to find the professor's mother. _She_ was 'Mrs. Snape', not Hermione.

Even as she ruthlessly dismissed the strange thoughts from her mind, and began her morning routine, her thoughts stubbornly turned in yet another direction she didn't want them to go. By the time she stepped under the deliciously hot shower spray, she was reliving the space of twenty minutes that had irrevocably changed the path of her life.

"Relax, Hermione," Ginny chided. "You look divine."

Hermione rolled her eyes at her friend. She knew better. Sure, the dress was beyond gorgeous, was, in fact, a dress any woman in her right mind would love to wear. It certainly clung in all the 'right' places, highlighting some of her better attributes, but that did nothing to change unalterable facts. She, Hermione Granger, was plain. She knew it; everyone knew it. No dress was going to change that. "Thanks for trying, Ginny," she replied. "But don't. I know what I look like."

Ginny shook her head, snorting in obvious disbelief. "You really don't see it, do you?" she asked.

"See what?" Hermione asked, frowning in confused exasperation. "There's nothing to see!"

Ginny grabbed her arm, spinning her around until the faced each other. Hands on her hips, a mulish expression tightening her face, the younger Gryffindor glared. "Didn't you learn _anything_ from the Yule ball, your fourth year?" she demanded angrily.

Hermione reared back, surprised by the attack. "What?" she asked, even more confused.

"Okay!" Ginny ranted, oblivious to Hermione's shock. "So you're not some blonde bombshell, with boobs bigger than her IQ, and a waist smaller than most women's thighs. So what if you're not some classic auburn haired, green eyed beauty that makes men faint to behold her loveliness. You're not a some goddess to be put on a pedestal and make men's hearts stop. Who would want to be?"

"I--"

"I'll tell you something else, Hermione Jane Granger! You've got something that women like that will never have. You, Miss I'm-a-bookworm Granger, are striking. You have good skin, cheekbones to kill for, and a facial structure that will age with grace -- unlike those mythical women I just mentioned, who will all probably look like hags by the time they're thirty!"

"I--"

"No. You will let me finish. When you take the time to tame that wild mop you call hair, and dress nice, and maybe add a touch of make-up, you are one of the prettiest girls in this school. Sometimes you make me so angry with your 'I'm so plain' spiel, because you're anything but plain. I wish I could look half as good!"

"But you're beautiful, Ginny!" Hermione protested, knowing she had wished -- on more than one occasion -- for the younger girl's hair.

Ginny scoffed instantly. "Yeah, in a flashy, round faced, you're so cute kind of way; I know. Unfortunately, my kind of looks will go the way of those women I just mentioned. By the time _I'm_ thirty, my figure will be fast headed toward my mother's. You, on the other hand, will just be hitting your stride."

Frowning, Hermione turned to face the mirror and she truly tried to see what her friend _said_ she did. Moments later, she shook her head. "I don't see it, Ginny. I truly don't."

Ginny huffed, chuckling immediately after. "Of course you don't," she admitted, sighing. "For someone supposedly brilliant, you truly have the self-confidence of a lemming. You know that, right?"

Before she could respond to Ginny's outrageous statement, Serapha hurried into the room. "It's time ladies," she announced, nearly bouncing in her excitement.

Hermione just wished the occasion was such that _she_ could be excited about it. Sighing, she smiled slightly at the woman who would be her mother-in-law in a few _very short_ minutes. "I'm as ready as I'll ever be," she said stepping toward the door.

The only thing she would truly remember about the short walk to the great hall was heart clenching panic. Nothing else registered. She didn't know which side either of the two walking with her took. She was completely unaware of whether or not either of them spoke or remained as silent as she. For that matter, she could have held an entire conversation with both of them, and not known it. All that mattered was keeping herself from running. It was what every ounce of self-preservation told her to do and it took every minute portion of her self-control and sense of honor to disregard the overpowering urge.

She did absently note when Ginny handed her a small bouquet of white orchids. She froze when Serapha opened the doors to the great hall, ushering the two of them inside. Her self-absorption ended abruptly as those doors closed behind her.

The great hall wasn't that much different from it's usual state; though, the dining tables had been removed and a profusion of flowers had been added. That's not what shocked her out of her overblown panic. No, it was the sight of her . . . groom. She had to blink twice, just to make sure she was seeing correctly.

In fact, she glanced to her left and discovered the Ginny was wearing a rather gobsmacked expression that nicely fit what Hermione, herself, was feeling. So, evidently, she wasn't the only one to notice. While the professor would never be what most would call handsome, he could _apparently_ be quite striking himself when -- to borrow Ginny's phrase -- he made a little effort.

As Ginny began her walk toward the dias, Serapha hooked her arm with Hermione's and subtly tugged her forward. Hermione's movement was done on autopilot, as her mind was focused solely on her groom.

The robes he wore were similar to the ones he'd worn for that disastrous dueling class in her second year, a design that suited the professor very well. More important than that, however, was the fact that the professor had obviously taken extra time on his appearance. His hair, which normally lay lank and heavy with potion fumes, was light and full.

She squinted slightly. _Does his hair **curl** at the ends!_

Just then music began, and she was startled to note it was the muggle wedding march. She truly hadn't expected that, and was touched by that extra effort on the headmaster's part. Professor Snape turned then and their eyes locked. Everyone else faded from Hermione's awareness. All she could see were those dark, bottomless eyes locked on hers and staring with raw intensity. She wasn't sure what she saw there, but it made her a little uneasy.

She took a shallow -- though she was trying for deep -- shaky breath and before she knew it, she was standing next to the dark haired man that would be her husband.

_HUSBAND!_

She was going to faint. She just knew it.

Serapha released her arm and placed her left hand in Professor Snape's. After that, nothing much truly registered -- again -- that touch her sole connection to reality. The only thing she really heard throughout the ceremony was the lack of any promises of love. That lack really pressing home that she was actually doing it. She was really marrying a man she didn't love, and didn't -- would never -- love her back.

She swallowed heavily, trying to keep a stomach that suddenly decided now would be a good time to revolt from actually doing so, and was startled when she felt a ring pressed into her free hand. She glanced down at it automatically, blinking in confusion as she looked up at the headmaster for the first time since entering the room.

"Place the ring on his left hand," the headmaster said gently and repeat after me.

Shakily, she managed to slip the ring onto the proper finger -- not without a bit of fumbling that had her blushing, however.

"I place this ring on your finger as a visible sign of the covenant we invoke here today."

With barely audible words, Hermione repeated the phrase.

"Severus Snape, please bear this ring with the knowledge and certainty that I give it to you today in full awareness of its meaning."

Again, Hermione repeated the headmaster's words, this time, her voice a little stronger; though, she did stutter slightly trying to use the professor's given name.

"Let it symbolise the basis of the past, the promise of today, and the hope of the future."

As Hermione spoke once again, she wondered, _is there any hope?_

"As this ring is a circle that never ends, let it also be a reminder of my promise to always honor and respect you, to listen and be the helpmate you need."

This time, Hermione's words were strong and clear as she made the final vow.

She trembled as Professor Snape repeated the vows she had just spoken. And listening to the strong clear voice of the man repeating them, she began to believe that, yes, maybe there _was_ hope. If the both of them truly meant the vows as spoken, they might actually find a way to make this work.

Hermione sighed as she dried herself off and dressed for the day. She hesitated briefly over her school robes, not really wanting to remind the professor -- her _husband!_ -- of her status as a student. Not that he actually needed reminding. Hermione was dead certain he was more than acutely aware of that tiny little facet of this farce.

That was it, she decided. Decision made. Her courage had run out on her. She whipped on her robes, and though she wanted to hurry, quietly made her way through the still unfamiliar chambers, and out into the hall, stopping only briefly at the small table. Thankful, as she closed the door behind her, that the hallway was empty, she quickly made her way back to Gryffindor tower to fetch her school things.

She may have gotten married yesterday, but school stopped for no-one, not even for Gryffindor students who married Slytherin professors.

TBC  
Kiristeen  
Please feedback to kiristeen at yahoo dot com (if you prefer email). I won't get it a my profile email at the moment.


	28. Chapter Twenty Seven

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Chapter Twenty Seven  
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Severus woke with a start, something dragging him instantly alert. A sound! A door, to be more precise. He launched himself out of bed, slowing only long enough to grab his wand from the bedside table. He was out of his bedroom and halfway across his living chamber before his brain woke up enough to tell him who had probably made the sound. Eyes widening in horrified shock, he spun an abrupt about face and strode back to his room, slamming the door shut behind him. In his startlement he had completely forgotten he wasn't alone in his quarters!

He hadn't seen her in his brief, trouserless jaunt to the front room. _Thank Merlin!_ he thought fervently. He could feel his face heat at the very thought -- something that happened _very_ rarely these days. He didn't want to imagine what he would have felt if she'd actually been in the room. He frowned. She must have been heading for the bathroom. It _had_ been a door he'd heard.

Shaking his head, Severus glanced at the clock, surprised to see it was only 5:30 He looked longingly at the bed for several seconds before shaking his head again. There was no way he'd get anymore sleep, even if he did go back to bed. Besides, it was less than an hour before he normally rose, anyway.

Grabbing yesterday's robes and throwing them on over his night shirt, he moved efficiently around his chambers gathering what he needed for his dash to the bathroom, his normal morning mood souring further as it sunk in that he was going to have to wait to get into his own bathroom. Added to that, there would be no careless in and out, wearing little to nothing, today.

_Or any time in the near future,_ he thought sourly. With another deep sigh, he dropped back onto his bed getting settled to wait for the _student_ that had invaded his life. At least she wasn't one of those typical females who would take forever in the bathroom -- not if he were to judge by her everyday appearance. This situation would _have_ to be worked out, however. He simply wasn't willing to wait to get in to his own bathroom every morning.

_Every morning._

The thought sent a shiver through him as he contemplated how long this situation would continue. At absolute minimum they would have to remain married for a year. They couldn't get out of it until after they'd-- Right. And he wasn't going to even contemplate _that_ until such time as his new _bride_ was no longer a student. Wife, or not, he had never slept with a student, and he wasn't about to start now.

_WIFE._

This was intolerable! How was he supposed to concentrate today? Almost every thought he had led him directly to the new circumstances in his life. He didn't want to think about it at all, let alone every moment he was awake. Part of him acknowledged that he was over reacting. After all, he hadn't been awake very long. Of course, _it_ would be the first thing he thought about, _it_ being the most profound change in his life. Mostly, however, he simply didn't want to think about it at all.

He dropped backward, lying flat on the bed, and threw his arm over his eyes and waited . . . and waited, resolutely keeping his mind free of his current situation. Finally, turning his head, he glared at the clock. It was now 6am and he had yet to hear a peep from the girl. Either, she was the quietest person on the planet -- he snorted at the very thought -- or she'd gone and fallen asleep in her bath! Angry now, Severus launched himself from his bed and strode toward the bathroom door. Only a last minute, 'eep!' from his conscience, halted his abrupt opening of the door.

He knocked instead . . . firmly.

No response.

His frowned deepened into an angry scowl. This time he pounded.

No response.

To hell with his conscience! He pulled the door open sharply, glaring.

The room was empty.

Bloody hell! He'd heard the chit leave, not go to take a bath! He'd waited all that time for _nothing_! The blasted girl had left without so much as a by-your-leave!

Now, in a truly foul mood, he slammed the door behind him and proceeded with his morning ablutions. No sooner had he closed his eyes as he stepped under the nearly scalding water, when the very thoughts he'd been fighting all morning won, the events from the day before flashing through his mind.

Severus shifted restlessly, unable to make himself stand completely still. Grousing semi-silently to himself, half of him wanted to just get on with it, get it over with. The other half of him was screaming inside him, demanding to know what the hell he thought he was doing. There _had_ to be a better way. He quickly shook himself free of the useless thoughts, however. All they led to was more frustration than he was already dealing with.

Movement to his left, brought his attention round to his two least favorite Gryffindors. He glared at them, as a matter of course, but was slightly disappointed when they didn't react to it . . . didn't even appear to notice the look.

_So much for _that _distraction,_ he thought in annoyance.

Albus and Minerva entered the great hall through the staff door and Severus froze, then had to force himself to remain where he was, focusing all his attention on the loathed students. It was either that or storm out of the great hall right then and there. Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on point of view, music he didn't expect began, startling him out of his pan-- worries.

Potter and Weasley's reaction, however, had him turning to face the door of the great hall. Walking toward him was Ginny Weasley, and for a horrified second Severus thought the something had gone unutterably, horribly wrong. Before the thought fully processed, however, he saw Miss Granger and his mother following behind the 6th year red head. His eyes widened as he took in Granger's changed appearance with something akin to shock. There was a young woman walking toward him where he'd expected to see a girl. Stepping slowly, her movements in time with the music, her skirt floated around her legs like gossamer leaves. The bodice of her dress clung to all the right places, fitting against her like a well-tailored silk glove. To his astonishment, it revealed a figure that, up until now, had been well hidden by school robes and loose casual clothing.

He swallowed heavily as she drew closer, his eyes locking with hers. Mouth drying, he watched his doom approach, because doom she was indeed. He was going to die sometime within this school year. He had never been more certain of anything in his entire life. Death, wrapped up in a surprisingly pretty package.

His mother handed her over to him, placing her hand in his. The ceremony after that was a blur of vows heard and vows spoken, and when the dreaded lies about love and cherishing never appeared, something inside Severus simultaneously relaxed and drooped. As much as he usually scoffed at the notion, that was what marriage was truly supposed to be about. And while he had long ago given up any thoughts that he would marry 'for love', believing himself neither capable, nor worthy, of it, he'd also never pictured marrying without it.

As he listened, however, he was grateful to Albus for the carefully worded ritual. This was something they could both live with -- for however long they had to. If the student standing beside him really meant the words she spoke, then perhaps the two of them could make it through this, both alive and with their sanity intact.

Hands shaking as he placed the ring on her finger, the entire situation suddenly became real and it took all his effort for his uncertainties not to show in his voice as he spoke the first of the vows.

By the time he'd neared the end, however, something about the words he was repeating, spoke in turn to him and he found himself hoping they could be lived up to.

"As this ring is a circle that never ends, let it also be a reminder of my promise to always honor and respect you, to listen and be the helpmate you need."

"Via the power granted me by tradition and wizarding law, I now pronounce you husband and wife. May you always remember the vows you have taken today, and may the two of you live in peace and harmony with one another."

Of course, that hadn't been the end of it. Just as Albus had made that odd 'benediction' at the end, Sybil had interrupted, and things had gone chaotic. That had been the last moment that he'd seen his 'bride' -- awake, anyway.

Savagely turning off his shower, Severus grabbed a towel and quickly dried himself, trying to banish the images from his mind. They certainly weren't appropriate.

Unfortunately, he had yet to reconcile the woman who had walked toward him at the ceremony with the student he'd known for the last 6 1/2 years -- the same student he'd seen sleeping on his couch last night. It was an odd juxtaposition to realize that they were one in the same person.

"Get over it, Severus Snape!" he snapped at himself, impatiently fastening the last of the buttons on his teaching robes. It didn't help that he discovered Granger's note on his desk just as he was about to leave. He snarled at it, crumpling the piece of parchment and throwing it into the unlit fireplace. By the time he was stalking down the hallway, he was literally growling at himself.

He also vowed that he and the know-it-all would talk tonight. If he had to assign her detention to do it, he would. He snorted, realizing that _really_ wouldn't go over well at all.

TBC


End file.
